Harriet Potter: The Girl Who Never Lived
by Aaron Ledgers
Summary: Harry Potter... this is a name that everyone, no matter who they are, has heard at least once. We all know he banished Voldemort… we all know he brought an end to the darkness… but during his years of living with the Dursley family, attending Hogwarts, and battling shadowy foes, there was someone who was always at his side. Unseen. Out of reach. His sister: the Girl Who Never Lived
1. Prologue: The Boy who Lived

**HARRY POTTER AND THE GIRL WHO NEVER LIVED**

**Written By: Jedediah Burnette  
Dedicated to: J.K. Rowling  
**

* * *

**Prologue: The Boy Who Lived and the Girl Who Ceased to Exist**

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, the family who lived on house number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal human beings, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious… they just didn't hold with such nonsense. Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills: he was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache.

Mrs. Dursley was thin, blonde, and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences in order to spy on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and, in their opinion, there was no finer boy anywhere. The Dursleys had everything they wanted… but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it.

They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.

Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended that she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a set of twins, too… a nearly identical little girl and boy who looked almost exactly alike. However, they had never even seen either of them.

This boy and girl were more good reasons for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with children like that.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, grey Tuesday where our story really starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work and Mrs. Dursley happily gossiped away over the phone, simultaneously wrestling a screaming Dudley into his high chair.

None of them noticed a large tawny owl flutter past the window.

At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek and tried to kiss Dudley goodbye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls.

"Little tyke," Mr. Dursley chortled as he left the house.

He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive. It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar—a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen—then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light.

Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat.

It stared back.

As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive—no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs. The man gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove towards town, he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day. But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes—the get-ups you saw on young people!

He supposed this was some stupid new fashion.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt—these people were obviously collecting for something... yes, that would be it.

The traffic moved on, and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings car park, his mind back on drills.

Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead: most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime.

Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning.

He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunch-time, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the baker's opposite. He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed.

He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy.

This lot were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard—"

"—yes, their children, Harry and Harriet, the poor dears—"

Mr. Dursley stopped dead and fear flooded him: he looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it. He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his moustache, thinking... no, he was being stupid.

Potter wasn't such an unusual name.

He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had sons and daughters called Harry and Harriet. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his niece and nephew were called Harry and Harriet. He'd never even seen either of them, the girl _or_ the boy.

The son might have been Harvey. Or Harold.

The daughter might have been Holly. Or Hayley.

There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley since she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her—if he'd had a sister like that... but all the same, those people in cloaks... he found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon, and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.

"Sorry," he grunted, stepping back as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile.

"Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today!" he exclaimed in a squeaky voice that made passerby stare. "Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating this happy, _happy_ day!"

And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle before walking off.

Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot: he had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination. As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw—and it didn't improve his mood—was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.

"Shoo!" Mr. Dursley loudly exclaimed.

The cat didn't move.

It just gave him a stern look.

_Is this normal cat behavior?_ Mr. Dursley wondered. _It doesn't seem so._

Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife. Mrs. Dursley had been having a nice, normal day: she told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learnt a new word. Mr. Dursley tried to act normally, but When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living-room in time to catch the last report on the evening news.

_"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.' _The news reader allowed himself a grin. _'Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?" _

_"__Well, Ted," _the weatherman said,_ "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early—it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight." _

Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair.

Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place?

And a whisper… a whisper about the Potters...

Mrs. Dursley came into the living-room carrying two cups of tea, but it was no good: he'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously.

"Er... Petunia, dear," he stammered, looking up at her. "You haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?'

As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry: after all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.

"No," she said sharply, "why?"

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..."

"So?" Mrs. Dursley snapped.

"Well, I just thought... maybe..." the man sighed, "it was something to do with... you know... her lot."

When Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips, Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name 'Potter'. However, he quickly decided he didn't dare, so instead he tried a different tactic and decided to talk about their niece and nephew. However, in that moment… something in his mind surrounding that memory felt hazy, as if lost in a fog: a name seemed to fade away, and then… only Harry was left.

"Their son and daughter," Mr. Dursely muttered, frowning as he fought to remember the memories he seemed to be losing, "they'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't they?"

"I suppose so," Mrs. Dursley said stiffly.

"What were their names again?" the man asked, closing his eyes as he fought to remember. "Howard and… Holly, right?"

"Harry and Harriet," the woman snapped. "Nasty, common names, if you ask me."

"Oh, yes," Mr. Dursley sighed, heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."

He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed.

While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden.

The cat was still there: it was staring down Privet Drive as though it was waiting for something. Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did... if it got out that they were related to a pair of—well, he didn't think he could bear it. The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind. He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on.

He yawned and turned over.

It couldn't affect them... that was what he'd told himself.

How very wrong he was.

Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed in the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground.

The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed. Nothing like this man had ever been seen in Privet Drive. He was tall, thin and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak which swept the ground and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice.

This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something… but he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he suddenly looked up at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him.

"I should have known," he chuckled. "I figured as much."

He had found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again—the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left in the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement.

Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street towards number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.

"Fancy seeing you here," the man stated calmly, glancing down at the tabby with a smile, "Professor McGonagall."

In an instant, the fur on the cat fluffed out and it morphed into a rather severe-looking woman with fiery red hair… a woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had sported around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak… an emerald one. Her auburn hair was drawn into a tight bun, and she looked distinctly ruffled.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor," the man kindly chuckled, "I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff, too, if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," Professor McGonagall snorted. "Try it sometime."

"All day? When you could have been celebrating?" the man asked, blinking in surprise. "I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

"Oh yes," the woman angrily sniffed, jerking her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window with an irritated expression. "Everyone's celebrating, all right: you'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no—even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news: I heard it. Flocks of owls... shooting stars... well, they're not completely stupid, so they were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent—I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle… he never had much sense."

"You can't blame them," Dumbledore gently sighed. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

"I know that," Professor McGonagall retorted, throwing a sharp, sideways glance at him... as though hoping he would tell her something. "However, it's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumours. A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," Dumbledore admitted. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a sherbet lemon?"

"A what?" the woman asked.

"A sherbet lemon," the man explained. "They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

"No, thank you," Professor McGonagall stated coldly, as though she didn't think this was the time for sherbet lemons. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone—"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense—for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort," Albus quietly interrupted; Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two sherbet lemons, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."

"I know you haven't," Professor McGonagall sighed, sounding half-exasperated, half-admiring, "but you're different: everyone knows you're the only one that You-Know... oh, all right—Voldemort—was frightened of."

"You flatter me," Dumbledore said calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too," the woman sighed and trailed off, searching for the words, "well... _noble_ to use them."

"It's lucky it's dark," the man chuckled. "I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

"I see," Professor McGonagall murmured, shooting a sharp look at Dumbledore. "The owls are nothing to the Rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss. It was the real reason she had been waiting on a cold hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as the one she had now. It was plain that whatever 'everyone' was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another sherbet lemon and did not answer.

"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumour is that Lily and James Potter are... are... that they're... dead."

Dumbledore sighed and lowered his head, closing his eyes with an expression of utter sorrow.

'Lily and James..." Professor McGonagall gasped, eyes widening in stricken horror. "I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... oh, Albus..."

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder.

"I know..." he said heavily. "I know. You watched them and cared for them as they grew up, Professor... we all did... they were our students."

'That's not all," Professor McGonagall whispered, voice trembling as she went on. "They're saying he tried to kill the Potters' children, Harry and Harriet... but—he couldn't… he couldn't kill the little boy _or_ the little girl. No one knows why, or even how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry and Harriet Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke—and that's why he's gone now."

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed, nodding glumly with a sigh of dismay.

"It's—it's true ?" Professor McGonagall asked, faltering. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little girl and boy? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Harry and Harriet survive?"

"We can only guess," Dumbledore admitted. "We may never know."

"Those poor children," Professor McGonagall sighed, pulling out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket.

"Hagrid's late," the man sighed. "I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," Professor McGonagall confirmed, "and I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Harry and Harriet to their aunt and uncle." Dumbledore admitted. "They're the only family the twins have left."

"You don't mean... you can't mean the people who live here?!" Professor McGonagall cried, immediately jumping to her feet and pointing at number four with huge eyes. "Dumbledore—you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son—I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry and Harriet Potter come and live _here?!"_

"It's the best place for them," Dumbledore said firmly. "Their aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything when they're older. I've already written a letter."

"A letter?" Professor McGonagall faintly repeated, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand those twins! They'll be famous—legends—I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Potter Day in the future! There will be books written about Harry and Harriet—every child in our world will know their names by the time they hit the age of ten!"

"Exactly," Dumbledore stated simply, looking at her very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any child's head, my dear: it would ruin their chances of growing up with good hearts. Famous before they can walk and talk! Famous for something they won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off they'll be, growing up away from all that until they're both ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, and swallowed.

"Yes... yes, you're right, of course," the woman admitted, running a hand through her auburn hair, "but how are the twins getting here, Dumbledore?"

She eyed his cloak as though she thought he might be hiding the children underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing them," the elderly wizard sighed.

"You think it... wise... to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?" the woman asked.

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," Dumbledore instantly replied.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," Professor McGonagall admitted, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to—wait, what was that?'

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them.

It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky—and a huge motorbike fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them. If the motorbike was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild– long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of dustbin lids and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins.

In his vast, muscular arms... he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," Dumbledore murmured, sounding more than relieved. "At last... but where, in the name of all things good, did you get that motorbike?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," the giant rumbled, climbing carefully off the motorbike as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got them, sir."

"No problems, were there?" the white-haired man asked.

"No, sir—house was almost destroyed but I got the two of 'em out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around," Hagrid quietly confirmed. "The little tykes fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol… but somethin's strange about little Harriet: for some reason, I can't seem to see her any longer… and even though I know she's right here in me arms, whenever I try to look at her... I just... _can't._ I think she's been cursed or somethin'."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall instantly bent forward over the bundle of blankets.

Inside, just visible, was a baby boy and girl, both of them fast asleep and snuggled against each other. Even as they watched, the little girl lying against Harry seemed to flicker and they did indeed have a hard time looking at her face for some unknown reason: it was almost as though every time they tried to see her, their eyes attempted to direct their gaze somewhere else... she was covered in a sheen similar to a rippling heat wave.

Like a mirage.

However, under their identical tufts of jet-black hair resting on their heads, they could see two curiously shaped cuts.

Each one looked completely identical to a bolt of lightning.

"Is that where—?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," Dumbledore interrupted. "They'll have those scars forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?" the redhead asked.

"Even if I could, I wouldn't," the elderly man sighed, shaking his head. "Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee which is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well, give them here, Hagrid—we'd better get this over with...''

Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned towards the Dursleys' house.

"Could I—could I say goodbye to them, sir?" Hagrid asked, waiting for the old man to nod. He then bent his great, shaggy head over the twins and gave them both what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" Professor McGonagall hissed. "You'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," Hagrid sobbed, taking out a large spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it, "but I c-c-can't stand it—Lily an' James dead, an' poor little Harry and Harriet off ter live with Muggles—"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid the twins gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside the blankets and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle: a little boy sound asleep, and a little girl who seemed to flicker and melt into the blankets like a chameleon as they watched her sleep. It wasn't as though she was really invisible… it wasn't even a trick of the light.

She was simply difficult to see because of the unknown curse that had been cast upon her.

Hagrid's shoulders shook.

Professor McGonagall blinked furiously.

The twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," Dumbledore finally stated, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," Hagrid muttered in a very muffled voice. "I'd best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall—Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself on to the motorbike and kicked the engine into life.

With a roar, it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect," Dumbledore sighed, nodding to the redheaded woman, "Professor McGonagall."

Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply, so Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

"Good luck, Harry…" he murmured, closing his eyes in sorrow, "and farewell... Harriet."

He alone knew that the curse that had been cast upon her was practically unbreakable: until the day he could find a cure to restore her fading existence, she would remain unnoticed and unseen by anyone aside from a very select few. By the time she hit the age of three, she would be but a shadow to everyone, despite being alive and well. By the time she turned four... nobody would be able to see her or feel her any longer: she would become a living, breathing ghost.

He turned on his heel and, with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky. A shocking event had occurred at the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up, one small hand closing on his sister's flickering fingers.

The letter lay between them as they slept, hand in hand, the way they had since the day they'd been born: not knowing they were special... not knowing they were famous... not knowing they would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that they would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by their cousin Dudley. They couldn't know that Harriet's existence would completely fade from everyone's memory, or even that the curse that had been cast upon her would deepen until even her physical existence had been completely erased.

They couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter—the boy who lived, and to Harriet Potter… the girl who will someday cease to exist."


	2. Chapter 1: The Vanishing glass

**YEAR ONE: THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE  
**

**_"Inside a cupboard, under some stairs, is a place that few would call home._**  
_********__Inside it lives a young boy and girl: one with a scar... and the other, _alone." 

* * *

**Chapter One: The Vanishing Glass**

It was dark… ever so dark.

Harriet slowly opened her eyes and blinked as the dreams once again began to play in front of her… she saw two black-haired infants sitting together in a playroom with a screaming blonde-haired little boy. One of the twins was being harassed by the crying child, while the other merely sat and watched the two boys play with her thumb in her mouth. She watched not Dudley, but her twin brother with happy green eyes.

Soon after… the image faded, and she saw a snippet of her and Harry at the age of four: Dudley was sitting at the birthday table with a multitude of smiling faces sitting around him. She and her brother were standing in the corner with their hands folded neatly; several people glanced at Harry when he sighed, but nobody even looked at her… then Dudley blew out the candles. When their Aunt and Uncle handed the boy his presents, he shot a look at the two of them.

Petunia quickly tried to divert his attention away from the boy, but it didn't work.

_"Why didn't Harry and Harriet get any presents last week, Mummy?"_ the little boy asked, looking confused; the girl's eyes lit up when several people blinked in confusion and looked at Harry with skeptical expressions. As always, they hadn't been able to see her. "_It was their birthday, too_."

"_Don't worry, honey, Harry doesn't need them,"_ the woman nervously giggled, putting a slice of cake on his plate. "_Also… ghosts don't play with toys, honey..._ _Harriet isn't alive anymore, remember? She died in the car crash._"

The festive party continued, but nobody even noticed when a sad little girl left the room… not even the boy she'd been standing next to. Ever since the day after she'd turned four years old, the people around her had forgotten she was alive aside from Harry, and in the end, even he forgot that she was around. He'd let her disappear... he'd let her vanish like everyone else. If she touched someone, they didn't notice. If she shouted at someone, they couldn't hear her.

And the one time she got mad and attempted to break something to get everyone's attention, her brother had been the one who'd gotten in trouble.

Since the day he'd been whipped with their Uncle's belt, she had vowed never to break anything ever again.

However, in a way… she and her twin shared the same fate, sadly enough: nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their niece and nephew sitting on the front steps, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living-room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls.

Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed.

Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what _looked_ like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bobble hats—but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large, blonde boy riding his first bicycle, on a roundabout at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house, too.

Even sadder was the fact that nobody even _knew_ that same boy had a twin sister living in the same house, eating the same food, and wearing her brother's old clothes since nobody ever noticed her enough to buy her what she needed. She was all alone despite being surrounded by other people: whenever she wore her brother's favorite things, he never seemed to notice that they simply disappeared until she took them off again.

Whenever he discarded a pair of old glasses for newer ones, she adopted that pair as her own since she was practically blind without them. Nobody knew that Harriet Potter curled up beside her twin brother every night and held his hand in her own… the hand he would never hold back.

In reality, the two of them were almost completely identical. They had the same jet black hair, the same jade green eyes, the same soft lips… heck, they even had the same facial proportions. The only noticeable difference between the two of them was Harry's thicker jaw and Harriet's longer hair: instead of ending just above the shoulders like her brother's did, it stretched down a little bit further and ended just below the collar of her shirt.

Harry and Harriet Potter were still there, ignored in different ways… and both of them were asleep at the moment.

But not for long.

Their Aunt Petunia was awake: it was her shrill voice which made the first noise of the day.

"Up!" the woman snapped, smacking on the door. "Get up! Now!"

Harriet woke with a start when her brother twitched and jerked his hand out of her own.

"Is it time already?" the girl asked, sleepily looking at her brother and pretending that he was smiling and replying in a soft manner; she often did this to fill the void that had enshrouded her existence, since there wasn't exactly much she could do. "Well, I guess we'd better get up."

Their aunt rapped on the door again.

"Up!" she screeched, making the dark-haired girl wince. "Now!"

Harriet slid her glasses on and watched as her brother scratched his hair and yawned; then he blearily started patting around for his own glasses. The girl heard their aunt walking towards the kitchen, but then the sound of the frying pan being put on the cooker hit her ears. She watched as her twin flopped down again and stared at the ceiling with tired green eyes: it was during moments like this that Harriet felt as though she could reach out and touch him… and he'd look at her, finally. She could picture it happening… and like always, she succumbed to temptation and slid her hand into his before lifting it up and clutching it: there was no reaction.

He didn't even notice that his own arm was hovering nearly a foot off the bed.

However, she dropped his hand when their aunt came back outside the door.

"Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"Nearly," Harry croaked, rubbing his eyes and sitting back up. "Promise."

"Well, get a move on! I want you to look after the bacon," the woman called. "Don't you dare let it burn! I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."

"Ugh… bloody hell, I completely forgot about that," Harriet mumbled, smacking her forehead around the same time that Harry groaned. "I can't believe how stupid I am. Dudley's birthday—how could I have forgotten? He was bragging about it all week."

"What did you say?" Petunia snapped through the door, making her stiffen in hope; had her aunt heard her for once?

"Nothing," Harry hastily sighed, shaking his head in dismay. "Nothing..."

When Harry slowly got out of bed and started looking for socks, Harriet did the same: her brother didn't notice when she grabbed the pair she'd discarded the previous evening and slid them on her feet, nor did he notice when she lifted his favorite sweater off the floor and slid it over her wiry frame. She was really skinny, even when compared with her brother, and to boot she was about four inches shorter than he was.

Once she'd pulled on a pair of Harry's jeans, she turned to look over her shoulder and watched as he pulled a pair of socks out from under his bed.

She shuddered when he gently pulled a spider off one of them and set it on the ground before pulling them on. Her brother was used to spiders, but she could never get past her extreme fear of creepy crawlies. However, she'd put up with them since the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where her brother slept. She probably could have wedged herself between her aunt and uncle, or maybe flopped down on Dudley's old mattress, but she felt safest beside her twin.

It had always been that way, even before he'd forgotten her.

When Harry was dressed, he went down the hall into the kitchen with Harriet following him just a step behind. Her footfalls were silent on the creaky floors: they'd always been that way. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents: it looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he'd wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike.

Exactly _why_ Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to both Harry _and_ Harriet, since Dudley was very fat and hated exercise—unless, of course, it involved punching somebody. Dudley's favorite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn't often catch him. Harriet was proud to say that her brother was extremely fast, even if he didn't look it. Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard their whole lives, but the twins had always been abnormally small and skinny for their ages: in fact, both of them looked even smaller and skinnier than they really were because all they had to wear were old clothes that had once belonged to Dudley. Their cousin was about four times bigger than Harry, and five times bigger than Harriet.

Harry and Harriet had soft, androgynous faces due to their young age.

However, their glasses were a force to be reckoned with: Harry was wearing round glasses that were being held together with a lot of Sellotape as a result of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. Harriet's glasses were in even worse condition: they were round like her brother's latest pair, but the left ear was dented, the bridge was falling apart, and the only thing keeping them on her face was constant vigilance.

Then again, Harriet never really worried about what she looked like since nobody ever saw her.

Her brother, on the other hand… well, he was self-conscious from what she had been able to discern.

The only thing Harry liked about his own appearance was the scar on his forehead… the scar that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. Harriet had a similar one on her own forehead, but it was shaped a tad bit differently and the angle was different. They'd had these scars for as long as they could remember: the first question she could ever remember asking her Aunt Petunia was how she and her brother had gotten them.

_'In the car crash when your parents died,'_ she had said. _'And don't ask questions.'_

Don't ask questions… that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.

However, Harriet was full of them: for example, she wanted to know why nobody could see her, why everyone had either forgotten her or written her off as dead, why even her brother had failed to notice her presence… she had so many questions. And all of them had no answer.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen just as Harry started turning over the bacon. Harriet merely stood beside him and tried to slide her hand into his own, but yet again… no response. Her face fell as usual, but she still held on to him and stood there, hoping… silently praying.

Begging to be seen.

"Comb your hair!" her uncle barked by way of a morning greeting. "Get that mop in check!"

Harriet merely rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him; about once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed to get a haircut. Her brother must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in their class put together, but it made no difference since their hair simply grew back extremely fast… all over the place. Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Their cousin looked a lot like their uncle: he had a large, pink face, not much neck, small blue eyes, and thick blonde hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head.

Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel—but Harry often muttered that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.

Harriet was inclined to agree with him, especially since he acted like one as well.

Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was probably difficult seeing how there wasn't much room. Harriet knew that nobody would notice even if she helped, so that's exactly what she did: she helped him get everything set up without them noticing, then sat down beside her brother and grabbed a fork. She helped herself to some of the stuff from his plate and glanced up to see if he would notice his disappearing food; he didn't even give the plate a second glance.

Even though he'd been looking right at it when she'd taken a bite of his meal.

Her green eyes fell and she sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose.

Dudley, meanwhile, began counting his presents… but soon his face fell.

"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see?" Aunt Petunia soothed. "It's here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy."

"All right, thirty-seven then," Dudley snapped, going red in the face. "Still one less!"

Harriet merely watched the scene with disinterested eyes, but Harry, who could already see a huge Dudley-tantrum coming on, immediately began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible just in case their cousin turned the table over. Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger too.

'We'll buy you another two presents while we're out today," she quickly admonished. "How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?'

Dudley thought for a moment, but it looked like hard work.

"So," he said slowly, finally looking up, "so I'll have thirty... thirty..."

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," Aunt Petunia sighed.

"Oh," Dudley muttered, sitting down heavily and grabbing the nearest parcel. "All right, then."

"Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father," Uncle Vernon chuckled, ruffling his son's blonde hair. "Atta boy, Dudley!'

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it; Harry, Harriet, and Uncle Vernon all watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a cine-camera, a remote-control aeroplane, sixteen new computer games, and a video recorder. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone, looking both angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon," the woman said, jerking her head in Harry's direction. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg, so she can't take _him_."

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror but Harriet's heart gave a leap: she instantly glanced at her brother and grinned when she saw his green eyes practically glowing with hope. Every year on Dudley's birthday, their aunt and uncle took him and a friend out for the day… be it to lots of adventure parks, hamburger bars, or the cinema. And every year, Harry had been left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away.

Harriet hated it there, but she always followed her brother no matter where he went, so she really didn't have any choice.

Sadly, the whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made her brother look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.

It was mind-numbingly boring, not to mention she had allergies.

"Now what?" Aunt Petunia demanded, looking at Harry her brother in fury; it was almost as though she was blaming him for planning this. Harriet knew she ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when she reminded herself it would be a whole year before her brother had to look at Tibbies, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again. "What do we do?"

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"As if," Harriet snorted; her words fell on deaf ears like always. "She hates us."

"Don't be silly, Vernon," Petunia scoffed, scowling at him. "She hates the boy."

Harriet scowled and stuck out her tongue before glancing at her twin: his eyes were reticent and seemed to be taking each insult in stride. The Dursleys often spoke about Harry like this… as though he wasn't there—or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug. It was one thing to not be able to notice someone... but it was another thing entirely to shut them out on purpose.

And it was exceedingly, outrageously, and maddeningly infuriating that she couldn't even speak her mind.

"What about what's-her-name?" Vernon asked, waving his hand. "Your friend—Yvonne?'

"On holiday in Majorca," Aunt Petunia snapped. "She'll be out of town for three more days."

"You could just leave me here," Harry put in hopefully. "Would that work?"

Harriet cast him a grin, since he'd be able to watch what he wanted on television for a change. Maybe he'd even be able to have a go on Dudley's computer: if he was happy, she was happy… after all, even if he couldn't see her, and even if she couldn't do anything to make him notice her, she still found joy in her brother's smile. In fact, Harry was the only person who could make her feel happy in general.

That's why she was always right beside him.

However, Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon.

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled, then shook her head slowly. "Well, I suppose we could take him to the zoo… and leave him in the car."

"That car's new," Uncle Vernon snapped. "He's not sitting in it alone..."

Dudley's face scrunched up and he began to cry loudly: Harriet and Harry rolled their eyes in synchronicity, since this was fairly common. He wasn't really crying… it had been years since he'd really cried, but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted. Guide to being a Spoiled Brat, 101: always cry for Mommy when things don't go your way.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry!" Petunia cried, flinging her arms around him. "Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!"

Harriet gagged herself when her brother sighed in dismay.

"I... don't... want... him... t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge pretend sobs. "He always sp-spoils everything!"

"You're acting is rubbish," Harriet deadpanned, cocking an eyebrow and pushing her glasses up her nose; she knew he couldn't hear her, but that was half the fun. Completely unaware of her presence, Dudley shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

"Oh, Good Lord, they're here!" Aunt Petunia frantically exclaimed. "Hurry, hurry!"

Only a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother.

Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat, and he was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Their cousin stopped pretending to cry at once. However, only half an hour later, Harriet was lying sprawled across her brother's lap in the back of the Dursleys' car: in reality, she was also lying on Piers and Dudley, but none of them seemed to notice the weight of her body… she found it rather odd sometimes, honestly.

If anybody else did half the things that she did, they'd notice in an instant. She wasn't merely invisible… it was almost as though she wasn't there at all. And honestly, that thought really scared her: there were times when she'd be lying awake at night and feel the walls closing in on her. The reality that nobody could see her would loom out of the darkness and she would feel raw, unadulterated fear that stretched on endlessly.

It was the same type fear that most adults associate with not really knowing what comes after death.

However, this fear… while very similar, was also extremely different.

There were times when Harriet would suffer panic attacks since she couldn't tell if she was real or not: they came swiftly and randomly, and she usually locked up. That fear was always there, nagging at her… never really gone, but faded into the corners of her mind. It was overwhelming at times, and she hated it: she was afraid that she wasn't exactly real, or perhaps even alive.

Maybe her aunt was right and she _was_ a ghost: she didn't know.

Harriet had always pictured ghosts to be legless sheets, and she didn't feel _or_ look like one of those. However, that fear was currently not at the front of her thoughts: her brother was happy, so she would try her best to be happy, too. Plus, she was on the way to the zoo for the first time in her life: both of them would share a new experience with each other. Their aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with Harry, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken him aside.

"I'm warning you,' he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to her brother's; Harriet purposely tiptoed up and pinched her Uncle's cheek with all of her strength, but it didn't even leave a welt… nor did he seem to notice. "I'm warning you now, boy—any funny business, anything at all—and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas…"

"I'm not going to do anything," Harry said in a small voice. "Honestly..."

Uncle Vernon didn't believe him… no one ever did.

However, Harriet knew firsthand why that was so: the problem was… that ever since she'd destroyed the vase in order to get everyone's attention, strange things had often happened around her brother, even though she hadn't done anything bad since then.

It was no good telling the Dursleys he didn't make them happen.

Once, Aunt Petunia, had gotten tired of Harry coming back from the barber's looking as though his hair hadn't been cut at all: she had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short that he he was almost bald except for his fringe, which she left 'to hide that horrible scar'. Her twin had actually cried once he'd seen himself, and in a fit of fury, she'd cut her own hair off to match his... as if the act could make him feel better. She'd clutched his hand with both of hers as he cried, fighting to make him hear her… but he couldn't, and that had made her cry, as well.

She'd always cried when Harry had cried: she didn't know why, though… it just made her feel sad to realize her brother thought he was alone. However, Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who'd spent a sleepless night worrying about what everyone would say at school the next day. Harriet was already aware that her brother was laughed at for his baggy clothes and Sellotaped glasses, so this was beyond humiliating.

She had fallen asleep hugging his arm in an attempt to make him stop crying. But then, something shocking had happened: the very next morning, Harry and Harriet had both gotten up to find their hair exactly the way it had been before Aunt Petunia had decided to do her shearing. Harry had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to tell the woman that he couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old jumper of Dudley's, but the harder she'd tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a glove puppet. Aunt Petunia had decided that it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his sister's relief, Harry wasn't punished.

On the other hand, there had once been a time when Harry had gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Harriet was just as quick as her brother, so when Dudley's gang had started chasing him as usual, much to the twins' surprise as anyone else's, there they were… sitting on the chimney. Even today, Harriet didn't know how it had happened. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry's headmistress telling them that her brother had been climbing school buildings, but all he'd tried to do was run away.

Harry had supposed that the wind must have caught him somehow; Harriet didn't know what to think.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, his cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living-room. While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia since he really liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank, and Harry were just a few of his favourite subjects.

This morning, it was motorbikes.

Harriet rolled over and used her brother's lap as a pillow, purposely kicking Dudley in the nose without him even noticing; a little bit of blood did trickle down, and he touched it before squealing for a tissue. The green-eyed girl instantly giggled and lazily did it again.

Sure, it was mean, but he deserved it for harassing her brother all the time.

"Roaring along like maniacs," Vernon muttered, watching as a motorbike overtook them. "The young hoodlums."

"I had a dream about a motorbike," Harry suddenly stated, green eyes suddenly lighting up. "It was flying."

Harriet turned and looked up at him in curiosity, waiting to hear more, but Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car directly in front of him. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beetroot with a moustache.

"MOTORBIKES DON'T FLY!" he roared, making Harriet flinch and cover her ears. "GET THAT THOUGHT OUT OF YOUR HEAD!"

Dudley and Piers sniggered when Harry blinked and straightened his glasses.

"I know they don't," the dark-haired boy admitted. "It was only a dream."

However, Harriet could tell that he wished he hadn't said anything from the look in his eyes: if there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than his asking questions, it was his talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon.

For some reason, they seemed to think he might get dangerous ideas.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families.

The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice-creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry what he wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice lolly. It wasn't bad, either: Harriet leaned over and took a few licks of it just to have a taste since today was kind of special; then she and her brother watched a gorilla scratching its head.

It looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blonde.

Harriet and Harry had the best morning they'd had in a long time. Her brother was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunch-time, wouldn't fall back on their favourite hobby of hitting him.

Sometimes, Harriet wished they could see her and feel her just so she could hit them back.

They ate in the zoo restaurant and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory wasn't big enough, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry was allowed to finish the first… with his sister's help, of course: no way she'd pass that chance up. However, afterwards… the green-eyed girl felt that she should have known it was too good to last. After lunch, they went to the reptile house: it was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons.

Their cousin quickly found the largest snake in the place.

It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a dustbin—but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep. Harriet watched as Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

"Make it move," he whined at his father. "Daddy, make it move!"

Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.

"Do it again," Dudley ordered; Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles.

The snake just snoozed on.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned, shuffling away. "Let's go find another snake."

Harriet slowly turned around and spotted Piers harassing another snake, to no avail… when he passed on, she walked over and set her hand against the glass, green eyes full of sympathetic understanding. She looked intently at the sleeping snake: she wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself—no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long.

"Poor guy," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes beneath her glasses. "You must hate living in a place like this… all these people poking their noses against the glass and trying to wake you up. Still, I kind of envy you: I mean, you get to be seen by everyone, even if they don't care about you."

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harriet's. When she stared at it, mouth dropping open, it swayed back and forth and pressed its mouth against the glass… once, twice, all the while looking directly at her.

Harriet stared at it… then she looked around to see if anyone was watching.

They weren't… and her brother was apparently busy with the other snake: something similar was happening with the enormous boa constrictor, and he seemed to be lost in a somber conversation with the creature. After a moment, the girl looked back at the snake in front of her and winked; it instantly winked right back.

"Can… can you see me?" she asked, eyes widening as a flurry of hope choked up her throat; she instantly pressed her palms against the glass and shivered violently in glee. "You… _can_ see me, right?! You're not just looking at something behind me?! You really see me?! I'm not a ghost, right?! I'm alive?!"

The snake blinked, and a forked tongue slid out of its mouth before it slowly nodded.

Harriet practically fell over from the icy shock that swept through her; then she burst into hysterical tears.

"I'm really real!" the tiny girl cried, happily pressing her head against the glass window. "Thank you so much, Mr. Snake! Aside from you, nobody can see me for some reason! I was getting scared that maybe I really _was_ a ghost or something… I felt like the world was getting smaller, you know? Plus, my brother can't even see me, and he's the person I care about the most! Thank you!"

The snake blinked before it jerked its head towards Uncle Vernon and Dudley: the two of them were harassing more sleeping creatures, which made the girl wince. The snake raised its eyes to the ceiling, giving Harriet a look that said, quite plainly, 'I get that all the time.'

"I know you do," Harriet murmured sympathetically, pressing her hand against the glass with a sigh. "It must be really annoying, having people stare at you all the time... but look on the bright side: at least they can see you, and at least you know you're real. Doesn't that count for something?"

The snake swayed for a moment, as if pondering the question… but then it blinked and finally nodded.

"Where do you come from, anyway?' Harriet asked, hesitantly glancing at her brother; he was openly talking to the boa from Brazil, and the serpent was currently doing something similar to the one she herself had started talking to. The snake in front of her slowly looked at a little sign next to the glass and Harriet peered at it before letting out a sigh. "King Cobra, Egypt… was it nice there?"

The cobra jabbed its head at the sign again: 'bred in captivity.'

"Oh, I see," Harriet sighed, eyes softening in dismay. "So, that means you've never met your parents, huh?"

The snake shook its head.

"That makes two of us," the girl mumbled, giving him a solemn smile. "Not like it would matter if I had, though: they'd probably have forgotten me just like everyone else did. You need to keep dreaming for the day that something good will finally happen to you, okay? There's really not much else you can do in a situation like ours, you know? Still… I know I just asked this, but... am I _really_ alive?"

The snake nodded.

"That means I'm not a ghost, right?" the girl asked.

The snake nodded again.

"Well, do you know why nobody else can see me, then?" the girl asked, blinking at him. "I don't get it, honestly… it's not like I'm invisible. Even invisible people could get caught… it's more like nobody even realizes I'm here, like my existence isn't… really… substantial. Do you know why?"

To her shock, the snake looked straight at her scar… and nodded.

Harriet was just about to ask for the answer when a deafening shout from behind caught her off guard.

"DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY!" Piers bellowed, waving his arms. "COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"

"Oh, great…" Harriet muttered, scowling at the rat-faced boy before she glanced at the watching cobra with a despondent sigh. "See what I have to deal with every day? I can't even speak up and let them know how I feel about it… and if I do, they simply won't hear me. Pretty awful, huh?"

The snake nodded vigorously and almost seemed to shudder.

The two of them watched as Dudley came waddling towards her brother as fast as he could.

"Out of the way, you!" he snapped, punching Harry in the ribs; caught by surprise, her twin brother fell hard on the concrete floor. However, Harriet felt her anger spike and leaned back against the glass barrier between her and the cobra… but what came next happened so fast that no one saw how it happened: one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass... the next, they leapt back with howls of horror and the barrier behind Harriet was suddenly nowhere to be found. The black-haired girl gasped and flailed her arms when she lost her balance; then she let out a shriek and flipped over the railing, landing in the snake pond.

She instantly sat up and spluttered, glasses dangling off her nose by one ear.

Her clothes were completely drenched.

"What just happened?!" the tiny girl cried, standing up and looking at the snake; it was staring at her with pondering crimson eyes… then it slid down right in front of her face and looked right at her with a bright, intelligent expression. "Um… you aren't going to bite me, are you? I'd die if you did, you know… your fangs are extremely deadly, and I… I-I don't want to die, okay?"

"Fear not," it hissed, sounding thoroughly amused; the girl's eyes flew open wide and she stared with a slack jaw. "I do not harm friendss. Thankss…"

"U-uhhhh…" the girl droned, watching as it winked at her again. "Anytime?"

When the cobra slid off its branch and slithered out of the tank, the girl slowly got up and climbed out of it.

That's when she saw her brother staring at the boa he'd been talking to earlier sliding across the floor. The glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished, just like the glass from the cobra's tank. The two serpents uncoiled themselves, slithering out onto the floor and sending people throughout the reptile house running for the exits, screaming their heads off. The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber… but as far as Harriet had seen, the boa hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed; the cobra had merely continued on its way. However, by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him. Worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to say something.

"Harry was talking to it," the rat-faced boy stated, glancing at him. "Weren't you, Harry?"

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Harriet's brother: he was so angry that he could hardly speak.

"Go—cupboard—stay—no meals," he managed to say, before he collapsed into a chair and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

Much later on, Harriet lay beside Harry in their dark cupboard, both of them wishing for a watch of some sort to pass the time.

Neither twin could know what time it was and they couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, Harry couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food… although, Harriet was tempted to pilfer a bag of snacks and stuff them under his bed so he could find them. She'd done it on purpose in the past, and her brother had genuinely been confused as to how they'd gotten there… but he hadn't complained.

In fact, he'd come to think of it as the mysterious snack bag: when he was at his hungriest, there had always been a snack stuffed inside a sack under his bed.

Sadly enough, Harriet and Harry had lived with the Dursleys for almost ten years… ten miserable years, as long as they could remember, ever since they'd been babies and their parents had died in that car crash. Harriet couldn't remember being in the car when her parents had died.

Neither could Harry.

During the time before she'd started fading from his sight, he had often told her that, sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in the cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead. Harriet had admitted that she had lots of dreams with green light, but she couldn't ever remember her scar hurting like his did since she was usually asleep when she had them.

The twins had supposed that the light was from the crash… although, even today, Harriet couldn't imagine where all the green light had come from.

However, when Harry had woken up one morning and hadn't spoken to her at all, she had been sad because it had finally happened.

It had broken her heart since he had promised he wouldn't ever forget her.

And yet, he had: just like everyone else, suddenly… she just hadn't been there anymore. Harriet figured that it would have been the same for their parents had they still been alive: she couldn't remember their parents at all. Their aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course Harry was forbidden to ask questions, so Harriet was even more at a loss since she couldn't ask herself. Plus, there were no photographs of them in the house.

When she had been much younger, and she'd first started disappearing to other people, Harriet had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take both her and Harry away, but it had never happened; her brother and the Dursleys were her only family. Yet sometimes, she thought… or maybe hoped… that lots of strangers in the street seemed to know who her brother was. They were very strange strangers, too.

A tiny man in a violet top-hat had bowed to him once while they'd been out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley.

After furiously asking Harry if he knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. Once, a wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved at him on a bus: she had been waving so merrily, too. Actually, now that she was thinking about it… a bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken her brother's hand in the street just the other day and then walked away without a word.

The weirdest part about all those people was the way they seemed to vanish the second she tried to get a closer look, almost as though they became what she was: not really there. At school, Harry had no one aside from his sister, and he didn't even remember her anymore: everybody knew that Dudley's gang hated odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses. Nobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang.

Harriet clasped her brother's hand in her own, feeling his warmth and shivering in spite of it.

He was so close, and still so far away… it really hurt, but she couldn't give up.

He needed her... and even if he couldn't remember, she needed him just as badly.

"Harry," Harriet whispered, closing her eyes with a sigh. "Please remember me soon… I miss you."

Then she fell asleep, still holding onto her brother's hand like a lifeline.


	3. Chapter 2: The Letters from No One

**Chapter Two: The Letters from No One**

Harriet was in despair, and there was nothing she could do about it even though half of it was her fault: the escape of the Brazilian boa and Egyptian cobra had earned Harry his longest-ever punishment. She had felt so guilty that she had refused to go anywhere but the privy in order to endure her half of it: by the time her twin was allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new camera, crashed his remote-control aeroplane and, first time on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Harriet was glad that school was over since she wouldn't have to memorize anything anymore, but there was no way for her brother to escape Dudley's gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid… but since Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader.

The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favorite sport: Harry-hunting.

This was why Harriet had found herself spending as much time as possible out of the house: she was following her brother as he wandered around and thought about the end of the holidays, where he could see a tiny ray of hope. Unknown to him, a girl was holding his hand and praying for a much farther future, a future she couldn't see.

A future where that tiny spark of hope had a fifty-percent chance of completely going out.

When September came, her brother would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in their life, the twins wouldn't be with Dudley. Their cousin had a place at Uncle Vernon's old school, Smeltings: Piers Polkiss was going there, too, but Harry was going to Stonewall Junior High, the local comprehensive.

Dudley thought it was funny, although Harriet saw nothing humorous about it.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet their first day at Stonewall," their cousin sniggered, making the girl stomp forward and angrily pinch his cheeks; as usual, no reaction at all. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No thanks," Harry stated calmly, giving a little shrug before he hid his eyes with his hair. "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it."

Harriet blinked three times in a row before bursting into a fit of hysterical laughter; her brother did the smart thing and ran before Dudley could work out what he'd said.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry and Harriet at Mrs. Figg's. The old woman wasn't as bad as usual, the dark-haired girl noticed: it had turned out that she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her own cats and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. She let Harry watch television and gave him a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd had it for several years.

Harriet was mildly grossed out, since she'd snuck in a few bites from her brother's plate, but she was still grateful.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living-room for the family in his brand-new uniform.

Smeltings boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life. As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up.

Harry didn't trust himself to speak: he thought two of his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh.

Harriet didn't give a damn since nobody could see her anyway: she laughed until tears were streaming from her eyes and she rolled all over the floor, kicking her legs and squealing with mirth. Sadly enough, the cheerfulness didn't last, and the next day she wanted to break something again right in front of her aunt when she woke up. There was a horrible smell in the kitchen when Harriet and Harry finally went in for breakfast: it seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink, so the two of them went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in grey water.

The girl was mildly disgusted to notice that they looked filthy.

"What's this?" Harry had asked, looking at his Aunt Petunia. "Laundry?"

Her lips tightened as they always did whenever he dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniform," the woman stated snappishly..

Harriet clenched her fists and watched, helpless, when Harry looked in the bowl again.

"Oh," he said, looking a little confused and more than a bit downtrodden. "I didn't realize it had to be so wet."

"Don't be stupid," Aunt Petunia snapped. "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things grey for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

Harriet seriously doubted it, but even if she pointed it out, nobody would hear her; she watched with somber green eyes when he sat down at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to look on his first day at Stonewall Junior High—like he was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably. Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry's new uniform: Harriet didn't blame them, since it really was absolutely rank. It reminded her of a tub full of frogs… it was gross. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smeltings stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.

They heard the click of the letter-box and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the post, Dudley," Uncle Vernon grunted from behind his paper.

"Make Harry get it!" the boy snapped.

"Get the post, Harry," Vernon obediently muttered.

"Make Dudley get it," Harry politely retorted.

"'Poke him with your Smeltings stick, Dudley," Vernon snorted; Harriet fumed when Harry dodged the Smeltings stick and went with him to get the post. Sometimes her family was so horrid that it made her want to scream, but doing so… as usual… would be pointless. Nobody would ever hear her… or look at her… and she had already started losing faith in the fact that Harry would ever smile at her again.

After all, if he had forgotten her in one night, it was unlikely she still mattered to him.

Three things were lying on the doormat.

A postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was holidaying on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill and…

Harriet froze and snatched Harry's hand out of instinct, heart skipping a beat.

If she wasn't mistaken… there was a letter for Harry… as well as herself: the girl watched with a trembling mouth and dilated pupils when he picked it up and stared at it, watching as his own eyes lit up with confusion and excitement: she understood why, too… because no one, ever, in their whole life, had written to them. After all, who would? Harry had no friends, no other relatives—and he didn't belong to the library so he never even got rude notes asking for books back. Plus, Harriet didn't even exist for the most part… so, why was the letter addressed to both her _and_ her brother?

Because there it was: this letter had been addressed to both of them so plainly there _could_ be no mistake.

_Mr. and Ms. H Potter_  
_The Cupboard under the Stairs_  
_4 Privet Drive_  
_Little Whinging_  
_Surrey_

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. However, oddly enough, there was no stamp: after turning the envelope over with trembling hands, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake surrounding a large letter 'H'. Then he turned the letter back around and frowned in puzzlement.

"Mr… and Ms?" he asked, blinking before frowning in confusion; Harriet clasped his hand, heart pounding, ears ringing. "There's no Ms. Potter… is there?"

"HAAAARRYYYYY!" the girl screeched into his ear, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to get through to him; then she took another deep breath and screamed again. Long, piercing, full of hope and passion, she wailed her brother's name in the hopes that her voice would finally reach him. "HAAAAARRRRRYYYYYYYY!"

When her fists tightened on his hand, he twitched and dropped the envelope. His green eyes flashed up, and for a second… she thought he was looking at her… but then he looked around, seeming to be confused. However, he was rubbing his hand… and the girl's heart sped up: even though it had only been for a moment, he had felt her touch for the first time in several years. Maybe this was destiny in the making!

Maybe freeing herself of being erased would be possible if she could just break free!

"Hurry up, boy!" Uncle Vernon shouted from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter-bombs?"

He chuckled at his own joke; Harriet sighed and pressed a hand against her heart when her brother bent down and picked the letter up. Then she followed him back to the kitchen, watching as he stared at their letter. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope. Harriet instantly crowded behind him and bounced on her toes, eager to see what the contents held.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk..."

"Dad!" Dudley suddenly shouted. "Dad, Harry's got something!"

Her brother was on the point of unfolding their letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was sharply jerked out of his hand by Uncle Vernon.

"Give that back!" Harriet wailed, instantly clenching her fists. "Give it back right now!"

"That's mine!" her brother shouted at the same time, trying to snatch it back. "Give it back!"

"You?" Uncle Vernon sneered, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. "Who'd be writing to you?"

However, Harriet became oddly curious when his face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights.

And it didn't stop there: within seconds. it was the greyish white of old porridge.

"P-P-Petunia," he gasped, eyes wide with fright; he looked like a man gone mad "It's them!"

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line… and for a moment, it looked as though she might faint. Harriet watched with a gawking expression as her aunt clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon!" the woman cried, voice hitching high. "Oh, my goodness—Vernon!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry and Dudley were still in the room: Harriet was an unknown presence, so nobody was aware that she'd been there in the first place. However, Dudley wasn't used to being ignored, so he gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smeltings stick.

"I want to read that letter," he said loudly. "Daddy, let me read it!"

"I want to read it," Harry furiously exclaimed; his sister clasped her hands and prayed he'd win. "It's mine!"

"Get out, both of you," Uncle Vernon croaked, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope. "Now."

Neither Harry nor Harriet moved: the twins stood side by side with identical expressions of anger, seen and unseen.

"I WANT MY LETTER!" Harry shouted, clenching his fists. "I want to read it!"

"Give it back!" Harriet cried, screaming as loud as she could. "GIVE IT BACK!"

"Let me see it!" Dudley demanded.

"OUT!" Uncle Vernon roared, taking both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and throwing them into the hall; when he slammed the kitchen door behind them, Harriet winced when she realized she was stuck. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, with his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address: this letter was addressed to two people, one of them female… but we only have one boy! Isn't it true that Harriet Potter died during… _that_? And how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house, do you?"

"Watching—spying—might be following us," Uncle Vernon wildly muttered, making the girl still standing in the room turn cold with anxiety. "As for Harrietta or whatnot… I… don't remember any such person. At all."

"But what should we do, Vernon?" Petunia asked, blinking. "Should we write back? Tell them we don't want—'

"No," the man stated firmly. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer... yes, that's best... we won't do anything..."

"But–" the woman protested.

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia!" Vernon snapped, whirling around with an abruptness that made Harriet flinch backwards. "Didn't we swear when we took them in that we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?'

"Them…?" Petunia asked, furrowing her brows in confusion. "Dear, what do you mean by them?"

"Is that what I said?" the man asked, frowning in perplexity. "I meant _him_…"

Harriet didn't want to hear anymore: she was already on the verge of tears since they really had no idea that she'd ever existed in the first place. Their memories of her were completely gone… and when she tore through the kitchen in order to throw open the door, she whacked Dudley in the nose and bonked her brother on the head in her passing. That evening, when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before.

He visited Harry in the cupboard that he shared with his sister.

The girl had clung to him ever since he'd come back, but this time it was more for self comfort than to comfort him.

"Where's my letter?" Harry asked, speaking the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to me?"

"No one: it was addressed to you by mistake,' Uncle Vernon tartly retorted. "I've burned it."

"Liar," Harriet muttered, glaring at the man with unseen sullenness. "It was addressed to me, too."

"It was not a mistake!" Harry angrily snapped. "It had my cupboard on it!"

"SILENCE!" Uncle Vernon shouted; Harriet squealed and scrabbled against the wall when a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. Their uncle took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful for some reason. 'Er—yes, Harry—about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking... you're really getting a bit big for it... so we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom."

"Why?" Harry asked, eyes widening behind his glasses.

"Don't ask questions!" his uncle snapped. "Take this stuff upstairs, now.'

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took Harry one trip upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room. When he was done, he sat down on the bed and stared around him, not even noticing the dent Harriet's bottom made when she sat down beside him. The girl sighed when she examined the room: nearly everything in here was broken.

The month-old camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over next door's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favorite program had been cancelled; there was a large bird-cage which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air-rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it.

Other shelves were full of books.

They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched.

However, from downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother.

"I don't want him in there..." their cousin whined. "I need that room... make him get out...!"

Harriet groaned and flopped down on her back only a split second before Harry stretched out on the bed himself. The two of them lay there, side by side… one totally unaware, and the other painfully so. Yesterday, both of them would have given anything to be up here, but Harriet was pretty sure that her brother felt the same as she did. She'd rather be back in their cupboard with the letter than up here without it.

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet: Harriet picked from Harry's plate as usual, but for once… Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smeltings stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof… and he still didn't have his room back. Harriet glanced at her brother's bitter expression and winced: he was probably wishing he'd opened the letter in the hall.

And honestly, she couldn't blame him since she'd also wanted to see its contents.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.

When the post arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry, made Dudley go and get it.

They heard him banging things with his Smeltings stick all the way down the hall.

"Dad!" he abruptly shouted. "There's another one! Mr and Ms. H Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive–"

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall with Harry and Harriet right behind him: Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made extremely difficult by the fact that Harry had the man around the neck from behind. Harriet merely stood and watched, helplessly trying to get around them in order to grab the letter.

If she could manage to do that, it would vanish and they'd probably forget about its existence until she let it go again!

That's how things worked with her!

However, after a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smeltings stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath.

Harry's letter was clutched in his hand.

"Go to your cupboard—I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Harry. "Dudley—go—just go."

Harriet leapt over to her brother when he stormed upstairs and walked round and round his new room. She sat on the bed and watched him, fists pressed against her jeans: someone knew that they had moved out of the cupboard and they also seemed to know they hadn't received their first letter. Surely that meant they'd try again? It also meant that someone, somewhere out there, was completely aware that she existed.

That letter was her hope for the future… and this time, she'd make sure they didn't fail.

She, and her brother, had individual plans.

**TXXXXXT**

The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning, jolting the tiny girl out of her dreams of being forgotten by everyone. When she sat up and rubbed her eyes, she was just able to make out Harry's silhouette turning it off before getting up and shrugging on his jeans. She instantly patted around for her glasses, letting out a tired yawn: if he was trying not to wake the Dursleys, he probably had a plan, so she carefully got up and followed.

She watched as her brother stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights: after a moment of thought, she glanced out the window and realized that he was probably going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for their home first. Her heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall towards the door. However, Harriet _and_ Harry both leapt into the air when a roar split the air—her brother had trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat—something alive! Lights clicked on upstairs and, to his sister's horror, the twins realized that the big squashy something had been his uncle's face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harry didn't do exactly what he'd been trying to do.

He shouted at Harry for about half an hour and told him to go and make a cup of tea; Harriet watched as he shuffled miserably off into the kitchen.

By the time he got back, the post had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap.

Harriet's heart leapt when she saw three letters addressed in green ink; her brother saw them as well.

"I want," he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before the eyes of a girl and boy who wanted them for individual reasons. "...the letters…"

Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the letter-box.

"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up."

"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon," the woman muttered.

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia," Uncle Vernon sneered, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruit cake Aunt Petunia had just brought him. "They're not like you and me."

However, an Friday, no fewer than twelve letters arrived for Harry and Harriet: seeing as they couldn't go through the letter-box, they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs toilet. Sadly enough, the tiny girl hadn't been able to get her hands on a single one. Uncle Vernon stayed at home again: after burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed 'Tiptoe through the Tulips' as he worked, and jumped at small noises.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand.

Harriet was completely baffled by what awaited her that morning: twenty-four letters to the twins had found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milk-man had handed Aunt Petunia through the living-room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food mixer.

"Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Dudley asked Harry in amazement. "Also, where are you hiding this Ms. Potter? Are you married?"

_No, but he does have a sister, _Harriet silently retorted. _Maybe the letter's from someone who will finally notice that I still exist! I have to read it!_

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

"No post on Sundays," he reminded them, spreading marmalade on his newspapers. "No damn letters today!"

Harriet sighed in dismay and took a swig of Harry's orange juice, but she choked on it and spluttered when something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney. Whatever it was had caught her uncle sharply on the back of the head: only a moment later, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry and Harriet leapt into the air trying to catch one.

"Out!" the man snarled, glaring at the boy through the letters. "OUT!"

However, for a moment… when the letters were flying around the room… one of them slid past his eyes and the words Ms. H Potter slid past his vision; when it fell towards the ground… all of a sudden, he was seeing two of Harry: his nephew had a doppelganger that was jumping into the air, attempting to catch a letter… and both looked exactly alike aside from their different clothing.

Then another letter slid past his eyes and the doppelganger was gone.

Shaking uncontrollably and fearing he was going mad, Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall.

He let out a pained yelp when he landed, which drew Harriet away from the letters and over to his side instantaneously. However, that was a mistake; the moment Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor: apparently, the poor girl had lost her chance to snatch a letter.

"That does it," Uncle Vernon hissed, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his moustache at the same time. "I want you all back here in five minutes, ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!'

He looked so dangerous with half his moustache missing that no one dared argue. Not that a certain unseen someone had much say in the first place.

Ten minutes later. they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding towards the motorway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he'd tried to pack his television, video games, and computer in his sports bag.

They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going.

Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while.

"Shake 'em off..." he would mutter whenever he did this. "Shake 'em off."

Harriet clung to Harry the entire time they were in the car: they didn't stop to eat or drink all day, and by nightfall, Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life: he was hungry, he'd missed five television programs he'd wanted to see, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer. Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley, Harriet, and Harry shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored, but both black-haired twins stayed awake, sitting on the windowsill on opposite sides and staring down at the lights of passing cars.

Both of them were wondering what was going on.

They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast next day.

They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.

"'Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. or Ms. H Potter?" she asked, holding up a letter and turning it so they could read the green ink address: Mr and Ms. H Potter, Room 17, Railview Hotel, Cokeworth. "I got about a hundred of these at the front desk… have no idea what to do with all of them, nor do I know where they came from."

Harry made a grab for the letter, but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out of the way.

The woman stared.

"I'll take them," Uncle Vernon muttered, standing up quickly and following her from the dining-room.

Hours later, Aunt Petunia finally decided to speak up.

"Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" the woman suggested timidly. "It's getting awfully dark."

Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew.

Harriet clung to her brother's arm with a frightened expression on her face: this was the first time in a really long time that she'd been this scared of something other than the truth of her own existence. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multistory car park.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. "He's gone mad…"

Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car and disappeared.

It started to rain soon afterwards… great drops beat on the roof of the car.

And when Dudley sniveled, Harriet actually wanted to join in, but for reasons unlike his own.

"It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television."

"Monday?" Harriet whispered, green eyes widening behind her glasses; she instantly glanced at her brother and drew her knees up to her chin, peering at him with an owlish expression. "Then tomorrow is Tuesday… our eleventh birthday, Harry… I wish you could see me so we could spend it together…"

Then Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought.

"Found the perfect place!" he said, waving at them with a grin. "Come on! Everyone out!"

Harriet winced and shoved her fingers under her armpits when she slid outside after Harry: it was extremely cold, and the wind was biting at her in an almost unimaginable way. She shivered and huddled close to her brother for warmth, wishing all the while that he could feel her own: Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out to sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine.

One thing was certain: there was no television in there.

"Storm forecast for tonight!" Uncle Vernon stated gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"

A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowing boat bobbing in the iron-grey water below them.

"I've already got us some rations,' Uncle Vernon cheerfully exclaimed, "so all aboard!"

"You've got to be bloody joking," Harriet whispered in horror; apparently, he wasn't… and she reluctantly followed her brother when he ambled after their Uncle. It was freezing in the boat: icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces, but after what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house. The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls and the fire-place was damp and empty. There were only two rooms: Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a packet of crisps each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty crisp packets just smoked and shrivelled up.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully. "They'd make for a good fire."

He was in a very good mood: he obviously thought that nobody stood a chance of reaching them in a storm to deliver post. Harriet privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer her up at all: the man had only brought four bananas, and her brother looked so exhausted that she refrained from taking even one bite even though she was hungry. However, when night fell, the promised storm blew up around them with a deafening roar.

Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows.

Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door; Harry was left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket. Harriet, who was openly horrified by the treatment, immediately slid under the blanket and wrapped her arms around his torso: she was praying she would reach him.

But he still shivered violently, and she was helpless to do anything but watch him suffer.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on.

Harry nor Harriet could sleep: both twins shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable even though their stomachs were rumbling with hunger. Dudley's snores were drowned by the thunder that started near midnight. However, when her brother finally sat up, the girl blinked at him and did the same. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told both twins that they'd be eleven in only ten minutes' time. Harriet and Harry Potter lay side by side and watched their birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter-writer was now.

Wondering if one of them would finally be heard after years of being alone.

There were only five minutes to go.

However, Harriet twitched when she heard something creak outside: she hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although she might be warmer if it did. Four minutes to go… maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that she'd be able to steal one somehow and smuggle it to her brother.

Three minutes to go.

Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea? One minute to go and they'd be eleven. Thirty seconds... twenty… Harry and Harriet both turned and faced the dusty floor: the boy slowly started drawing some words in the sand, and the girl hooked a strand of hair behind her ear as she watched. After he was finished, he pulled his hand back and looked at the words.

_Happy Birthday, Harry…_

Ten—nine—maybe he'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him—

Harriet slowly let out a sigh and sadly added onto the writing, abruptly making the boy look down.

His eyes slowly widened when she finished the birthday wish, pupils dilating in disbelief and confusion.

_Happy Birthday, Harry and Harriet._

"W-w-what?" he whispered, staring at the writing with gooseflesh on his arms. "Who's Harriet?! A ghost?"

"No... I'm not a ghost," the girl whispered, hanging her head. "I'm not dead, Harry... I'm right here... right where I've always been. Why can't you see me?"

"Who said that?!" the boy squeaked, voice hitching high as he looked around. "H-hello? Who's there?!"

"Wait… you can hear me?!" Harriet cried, head snapping up in shock. "Harry?! HARRY! HARRY, CAN YOU HEAR ME?! HAAAAARRYYYYYY!"

"Who's calling me?!" the boy stammered, eyes wide behind his glasses. "Who are you?!"

Three—two—

"I'M YOUR SISTER!" Harriet shrieked, squeezing her eyes shut. "YOUR TWIN SIST—"

BOOM!

The whole shack shivered and both twins bolted upright, staring at the door: when the girl grabbed her brother's hand, he snatched it back and cradled it with a terrified gasp, eyes flashing around. The girl instantly stared at him, eyes wide in stunned surprise: someone was outside, knocking to come in. However, in a flash of lightning that lit up the entire room… Harry Potter saw his twin sister for the first time in years. But only for a moment, you see, because she faded back into the world around her when the light vanished.

Then door began to rattle on its hinges, making both twins straighten up in alarm.

Someone, or something, was trying to get inside.


	4. Chapter 3: The Keeper of Keys

**Chapter Three: The Keeper of the Keys**

Harriet sat up with large eyes and stared at the door, not even realizing that her own brother had seen her for a split second.

Her green eyes were large behind her glasses and she shook as she sat there.

BOOM!

The door jolted again and Dudley jerked awake.

"Where's the cannon?" he stupidly asked. "Mummy?"

Harriet did the intelligent thing and followed her twin brother when he scrambled off the ground and hid behind something; not too long after the girl huddled down beside him and clung to his arm, there was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands: that's what had been in the long, thin package he'd brought with them. Harriet pressed close to Harry's side, but he didn't seem to notice... as usual.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you—I'm armed!"

There was a pause... then—

SMASH!

Harriet squeaked when the door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges: with a deafening crash, it landed flat on the floor. A giant of a man was standing in the doorway: his face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but she could make out his eyes, which glinted like black beetles under all the hair. The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling.

He bent down, picked up the door and fitted it easily back into its frame: the noise of the storm outside dropped a little.

He turned to look at them all.

"Sorry about that," the man grunted, cocking a thick eyebrow. "Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey."

"Huh?" Harriet asked, glancing at Harry to see that he looked just confused. "That's not what I was expecting him to say..."

That much was true: out of all the things she'd been expecting the intruder to say, asking for tea was NOT on the list.

She watched with hesitant green eyes as he strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," the stranger muttered; Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon. When Harry and Harriet looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face looming above them... they saw that the beetle eyes had crinkled into a smile and simultaneously froze in place, blinking in startled synchronicity. "Aww... little Harry and Harriet, all grown up! Las' time I saw either one of ya, yeh were only lil' babies! Yeh still look exactly alike, though… in fact, it's even a might hard t' tell which one of ya is which: yeh both take after yer dad, but yeh've both got yer mum's eyes."

"Eh?" Harriet whispered, large green eyes widening in startled shock behind her glasses. "Wait… sir, you can see me?"

"See you?" the giant snorted, frowning in perplexity. "Now, what kind of a question is that? 'Course I can see yeh, Harriet."

"Um, Sir?" Harry squeaked, looking around in confusion. "W-who are you talking to? Who's Harriet?"

The giant did a double take and stared at him with an open mouth; then his eyes rapidly flicked back and forth between the twins.

"Oh, dear," the giant muttered, eyes going blank; he instantly furrowed his brows. "It really happened… Dumbledore was right: everyone's forgotten her."

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.

"I demand that you leave at once, sir!" the man said, glaring at the arrival. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," the giant snorted, reaching over the back of the sofa; he jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room. The man made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on. "Anyway—Harry, Harriet, a very happy birthday to both of yeh! Got summat fer yeh here—I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right just the same."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat, he pulled a slightly squashed box: Harriet watched with large eyes as her brother opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with '_Happy Birthday Harry and Harriet'_ written on it in green icing; the girl covered her mouth with both hands, shivering violently with the shock that he could really see her.

Harry finally looked up at the giant.

"Who are you?" he asked, staring at him with stunned eyes. "And who is Harriet?"

The giant glanced at the nearly identical girl standing directly beside him and chuckled weakly.

"I haven't introduced meself," he sighed, holding out an enormous hand and shaking Harry's whole arm; then he did the same with Harriet… and frowned, for the moment he touched her, everyone's eyes flashed to his face rather than his arm. Nobody, not even Harry himself, seemed to notice that he was shaking hands with the poor girl. "I am Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts… but as for who Harriet is… I'll leave that for later. It's difficult to explain."

"No!" Harriet instantly cried, shaking her head when Hagrid glanced down at her with furrowed brows. "Please, sir, tell him! Nobody else can see me for some reason, nor can they hear me! You're the first bloody person in years who's even _looked_ at me! You _have_ to tell him I'm here, please! I can't do it myself!"

"Even if I did, he would only forget what I said later on," the giant stated softly, patting her head in sympathy. "Everything will be explained later, though."

Harriet fell silent and stared at the ground, green eyes sullen and withdrawn.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he asked, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled crisp packets in it and snorted before bending down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing, but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light, and Harriet sighed when she felt the warmth washing over her: it was almost as though she'd sunk into a hot bath. The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs and a bottle of some amber liquid which he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon, the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but soon he slid the first six fat, juicy, and slightly burnt sausages from the poker.

Dudley fidgeted a little.

"Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley," Uncle Vernon said sharply. "It's not safe."

"Yer great puddin' of a son don't need anymore fattenin', Dursley," the giant chuckled darkly. "Don't worry."

So saying, he passed the sausages to Harry and Harriet, observing how everyone's awareness of the latter completely dissolved the moment she came into contact with it. The girl was so hungry that she hadn't ever tasted anything so wonderful, but she still couldn't take her eyes off the giant. Harry must have been feeling the same way, since he was staring at him as well.

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry finally sighed, diverting his sister's gaze. "I still don't... really know who you are."

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, giving both twins a firm stare, "an' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts—yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

"Er—no," Harry mumbled, giving him a thoroughly confused expression. "What's that?"

Hagrid looked totally shocked.

"Sorry," Harriet quickly intervened, glancing at her brother with nervous eyes. "I've never heard of it, either."

"Sorry?" Hagrid barked, making the twins flinch; he instantly turned to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's _them_ as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Didn't yeh never wonder where yer parents learnt it all?"

"All what?" Harry and Harriet asked simultaneously.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered, leaping to his feet: in his anger, he seemed to fill the whole hut… and the Dursleys were soon cowering against the wall. "Do you mean ter tell me, that this boy and girl know nothin' about _ANYTHING?"_

Harriet winced, feeling as though that was going a bit far: she and her brother had been to school, after all... it's not like they were dumb.

"I know some things," Harry quietly protested. "I can… you know, do math and stuff."

"I'm also good at history and science," Harriet added, then reluctantly admitted, "even if the notes I take _do_ disappear right after I write them."

"I didn't mean that kind of stuff," Hagrid said, waving his hand. "I meant the stuff about our world. Your world. Yer parents' world."

"What world?" Harriet asked, frowning in confusion. "Isn't… _this_ world the only one there is?"

Hagrid suddenly looked as if he was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed, whirling around; Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like 'Mimblewimble,' but Hagrid merely turned back around and stared wildly at Harry and Harriet. "Alright, but yeh must know about yer mum and dad, right? I mean, they're famous… _you're_ famous!"

"What?" Harriet asked, eyes widening in surprise. "Our Mum and Dad were famous?"

"My—my mum and dad weren't famous, were they?" Harry asked at the same time. "That can't be right, can it?"

"Yeh don' know... do ya...?" Hagrid asked, running his fingers through his hair and fixing the twins with a bewildered stare. "Neither of yeh knows what yeh are?"

It was around that moment when Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.

"Stop!" he commanded, stepping forward with clenched fists. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid gave him.

When Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

"You never told them? Never told either of them what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer them?" the giant growled, bristling like a wild dog who wanted to take a bite out of someone. "I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from them all these years?"

"Kept what from… us?" Harry eagerly asked, although he did look a bit confused by the plural. "What do you mean?"

"STOP!" Uncle Vernon shouted in panic. "I FORBID YOU!"

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," Hagrid snapped, glaring at them; then he glanced down at the twins. "Harriet, you're a witch; Harry, you're a wizard."

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror, and soon after, there was silence inside the hut: only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

"I'm a _what?"_ Harry whispered, not even processing what he'd just heard. "What did you just say?"

"You're a wizard, o' course," Hagrid sighed, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower. "'An' a thumpin' good'un, too, I'd say... once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? You and Harriet will be a fine witch and wizard someday."

"Who in blazes is this Harriet you keep talking about?" Vernon finally snapped, glaring at the giant in angry confusion. "I keep hearing you say the name Harriet over and over again, but we don't have anybody by that name _with_ us! Who _is_ she? And why do you keep talking as though she's here in the room?!"

"Wouldn' yeh like to know?" Hagrid snorted, scowling at him; the blonde man immediately cowered against the wall. "Even after all these years, yeh didn't even notice the signs, did ya? Yeh didn't notice that yeh had a little girl as _well_ as a little boy livin' right under yer nose, did ya?"

"Huh?" Dudley stupidly asked, blinking like a not-so-clever monkey. "What little girl?"

"That'un, you mental ox!" Hagrid angrily bellowed, pulling a weathered pink umbrella out of his coat and flicking it at Harriet with an arcane wave; a flash of brilliant blue light lit up the entire room and the girl suddenly felt as though she were full of static electricity. She gasped when she glanced down at herself: her entire body was glowing bright red. "See 'er now?! That girl right there is Harriet Potter! Take a good look, because she'll soon fade away from your awareness like before."

"IT'S A GHOST!" Petunia screeched, covering her face. "A GHOST!"

"I'm not a ghost! _I'm not_ _dead_!" Harriet angrily shrieked, clenching her fists and stomping her foot; for the first time in countless years, however, everyone twitched and stared at her… which made her freeze. "Wait… you all can see me again? Like, _really_ see me?!"

"Bloody hell... you're… you're _me_," Harry suddenly whispered; the girl whirled around to find him staring at her in shock. "You... you look _exactly_ like _me!"_

Harriet's green eyes saddened and her heart throbbed painfully when she realized that he still didn't remember anything about her.

His eyes didn't have the familiarity she'd been missing, nor was he smiling like he'd used to.

"'Course she looks like you: she's your twin sister, after all… an' I reckon it's abou' time yeh both read yer letter," Hagrid grunted softly, holding out what they'd both been desiring. "You should read it before th' spell wears off and yeh all forget the poor lass again."

Harriet glanced down at her glowing hands when Harry took the yellowish envelope, which had neatly been addressed in emerald green to '_Mr and Ms. H Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea._' However, the girl crowded close and peered over his shoulder when he pulled out the letter and unfolded it: he glanced at her with a startled expression when she touched him. After a moment of blinking at her, the glow surrounding her body began to flicker and faded somewhat.

Then the twins glanced down and began to read.

**_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY  
_**

**_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_**

**_Dear Mr. and Ms. Potter,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find the enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on the 1st of September. We await your owls by no later than July 31st.  
_**

**_Yours sincerely,  
_**

**_Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress_**

"What on earth?" Harriet whispered, eyes large with wonder. "What does all that mean?"

Questions exploded inside her head like fireworks: she couldn't decide which one to ask first.

After a few minutes, however, Harry beat her to the punch and looked up.

"What does it mean?" he asked, looking a little dazed. "They await our owls? Is that some sort of code? And why was... Harriet... gone all this time?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," Hagrid exclaimed, clapping a hand to his forehead, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl—a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl—a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth, he scribbled a note which Harry and her brother could read by tilting their heads and looking at it upside-down. "I almost forgot to report in."

_'Dear Mr Dumbledore, given the Potter twins their letter. Taking them to buy their things tomorrow. It's just as you feared with little Harriet, though, and the weather's horrible. Hope you're well. _

_Hagrid_

"What does that mean?" Harriet quipped, glancing up at him even as the glow around her body faded away; the moment it was gone, Harry's eyes went blank for a moment and he blinked as though coming out of a daze. Petunia, Dudley, and Vernon all had a similar reaction... and then, all of them glanced up at Hagrid: the giant's eyes narrowed when he realized that the black-haired boy had literally forgotten his own twin within mere seconds. "The part about me, I mean…"

"That's a bit complicated," Hagrid muttered, rolling up the note and giving it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak. "It's still beyond our comprehension."

"Well, how?" Harriet quietly asked, watching as the man then went to the door and threw the owl out into the storm. "How come I'm always... you know, like this?"

Once the bird had flown away, he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone; after a moment, Harriet realized Harry's mouth was open and lifted her hand, closing it without him even realizing what she was doing. She let out a despondent sigh when she realized everything had gone back to normal. She was once again non-existent to everyone… nobody could see her and nobody remembered she'd ever been there.

"Like I said, it's very hard to explain... now, where was I?" Hagrid asked, lifting his eyes to the ceiling. "Oh, righ'… about Hogwarts."

Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight around that moment.

"He'll not be going," the pudgy man said.

"That so?" Hagrid grunted, rolling his eyes. "And I'm guessing a great Muggle like yerself is going to stop him."

"Muggle?" Harriet questioned, cocking her head in confusion. "What's that mean?"

"A great what?" Harry asked around the same moment, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

"Muggle," Hagrid carelessly explained, gesturing at the Dursleys. "Non-magic folk like them."

"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," Uncle Vernon snapped. "We swore we'd stamp it out of him!"

"You knew?" Harry asked, glancing at them with startled eyes; likewise, Harriet did a double-take and gaped. "You knew I'm a... a wizard?"

"Knew?!" Aunt Petunia suddenly shrieked, making Harry flinch and Harriet twitch. "Knew?! Of course we knew! How could we not, with my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that very same school: she came home every holiday with her pockets full of edible frog-spawn and started turning the teacups into rats! I was the only one in my family who saw her for what she was—a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, and they were proud of having a witch in the family! We had a witch in the family, a witch!"

Petunia stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on: it seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same," Petunia stated coldly, narrowing her eyes with her thin lips drawn back. "Just as strange, just as… as… abnormal—and then she went and got herself _blown up,_ and _we_ got landed with _you!"_

Harriet and Harry immediately turned bone white: the girl's eyes became large and the boy seemed to have been frozen in place.

"Blown up?" Harry croaked, slowly shaking his head in disbelief. "But... but you… you told me they died in a car crash…"

"A CAR CRASH?!" Hagrid roared, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "A car crash killed Lily an' James Potter?! It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry and Harriet Potter not knowin' their own story?! When every kid in our world knows their names?!"

"But why?" Harry asked, not seeming to hear his sister's name being spoken. "What happened?"

"Please, tell us!" Harriet pleaded, shakily clasping her hands together; her eyes were practically begging for answers. "I want to know what happened, too!"

The anger faded from Hagrid's face and he suddenly looked anxious.

"I never expected this," he muttered in a low, worried voice. "When Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, I had no idea how much yeh didn't know. Ah, look, kids… I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh what happened— but someone's gotta since yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin' anything. Especially you, Harriet… yer gonna have a difficult time of everything, what with people not really bein' able to see ya or knowin' that yer there."

"What do you mean?" the girl asked, glancing at her family to see no reaction to her name whatsoever. "Am I... really a part of all this?"

Hagrid threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, I guess it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh—mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it..." the giant muttered, sitting down and staring into the fire. "It begins, I suppose, with… with a person called … bloody hell, it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows—"

"Who?" Harry quietly interrupted.

"Well... I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it," Hagrid muttered, closing his eyes. "No one does."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared," the giant scoffed, rubbing his face with a large hand. "Blimey, this is difficult… see, there was this wizard who went... bad: as bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was... was…"

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out: Harriet blinked at him in confusion.

"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested.

"Nah—can't spell it," the giant muttered, giving a little shudder. "All right… _Voldemort._ Now, _don'_ make me say it again. Anyway, this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too—some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, they were… didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches... terrible things happened. He was takin' over."

"What happened?" Harriet asked, shivering when he trailed off; Hagrid squinted at her for a moment.

"Well… some stood up to him—an' he killed 'em," the giant continued, watching as her face turned pale. "Horribly. One o' the only safe places left in the entire world was Hogwarts, and I reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare to try takin' the school… not jus' then, anyway. Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew: Head Boy an' Girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before... he probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side. Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is this: he turned up in the village where you was all living on Halloween ten years ago."

Harriet froze when a flash of green light lit up behind her eyes and involuntarily started shuddering.

"You were both just a year old… cutest little tykes in the world... and yet, he came ter yer house an'—an'—" Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn. "Sorry… but it's sad: I knew yer mum an' dad personally, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find... but... 'You-Know-Who' killed 'em, an' then—an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing... he tried to kill both of you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then."

Harriet swallowed when she got a fuzzy flash of a woman's face in front of her and a room with a crib.

She saw the woman's green eyes snapping shut inside her head... saw beautifully long red hair flying over her shoulders in a blast of wind and wood. She saw the woman whirling around... saw her throwing things with a terrified expression... then she saw the ceiling as she was dropped, and saw the green light from her dreams engulfing the redheaded woman. She saw the ceiling rolling as she crawled to all fours and sat down... saw something long in front of her brother's face...

The girl immediately shook her head free of the visions and wrapped her arms around herself before glancing at Harry: he looked thunderstruck.

"However, he couldn't do it," Hagrid stated softly, glancing at the twins. "Haven't ya ever wondered how you got those marks on yer foreheads? Those were no ordinary cuts… that's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh: it took care of yer mum, yer dad, an' yer house, even—but it didn't work on either of you. That's why yer both famous… and that's why nobody can see or remember Harriet: no one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em… no one except for the two of you. He'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age—the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts… and even though you were only babies… you lived."

As Hagrid's story came to a close, Harriet finally had a vision of the blinding flash of green light that her brother had always talked about when they'd been little: she saw it more clearly than ever before… she saw her brother falling over after the flash, and then... and then, a scream of pain... a scream of rage... and the brown thing was suddenly in her face. A high, cold, cruel scream of anger erupted around the same time that the green light seared into her body.

Harriet lowered her head and touched her suddenly-burning scar with stinging eyes; Harry merely stared off into space, in total shock.

Hagrid was watching both of them sadly.

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders," he muttered. "Brought yeh ter this lot…"

"Load of old tosh," Uncle Vernon bellowed. Harriet jumped since she'd almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. "Now, you listen here, boy: I accept there's something strange about you, but its probably nothing a good beating wouldn't cure—and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it! The world's better off without them in my opinion—asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types—just what I expected! I always knew they'd come to a sticky end—"

Hagrid immediately leapt from the sofa and drew the battered pink umbrella from inside his coat again.

Harriet twitched when he pointed it at Vernon like a sword.

"I'm warning you, Dursley," he growled, narrowing his eyes. "I'm warning you—one more word..."

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again: he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"Wow…" Harriet whispered, eyes wide with admiration. "That was brilliant."

"I agree," Hagrid sighed, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor. "Much better."

"Um, I have more questions," Harry stammered, lifting a hand. "What happened to Vol— sorry—I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"Good question, Harry," Hagrid chuckled, glancing at him in admiration. "Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you and yer _sister_. Makes yeh both even more famous: that's the biggest myst'ry, see... he was gettin' more an' more powerful—so why'd he go? Some say he died... codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours: some of 'em came outta trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back. Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere... but lost his powers."

"Really?" Harriet asked, frowning at him before slowly stepping forward and touching her stinging scar again. "But... but if that's the case, and he _was_ the one who cursed me… why has everyone forgotten me? Why am I totally invisible to everyone around me? Why don't they know I exist when I'm standing _right here?"_

"I don' rightly know," Hagrid sternly admitted, putting a hand on her head and mussing up her glossy black hair. "I was told by Dumbledore that yer were supposed to completely vanish, but apparently... some of us in th' wizarding world are more sensitive than others: there are a lot of us who still remember yer name and can still see yeh fer some reason… like me for example, and most likely a vast majority of the teachers at Hogwarts. But there are just as many who've never even heard of ya, and more who've totally forgotten that yeh- ever existed in the first place. Those people aren't even aware of your presence."

"Why?" Harriet asked, looking up at him with watering eyes. "Why do I not exist to some people? Why don't I exist to _Harry?"_

"I don' rightly know," Hagrid repeated, shaking his head and glancing up at the others in the room; nobody even seemed to be aware that he was speaking and merely seemed to be waiting for him to continue. He furrowed his brows, since even Harry didn't seem to notice that he was talking to the girl… or even what he'd said after he'd touched her head. When he lifted his hand and broke the physical contact, lucidity came back into the eyes of everyone present. "There was somethin' goin' on that night that _he_ hadn't counted on—I dunno what it was, no one does—but somethin' about you… stumped him."

Hagrid looked at both twins with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes.

However, Harriet, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake.

A witch?

How could she possibly be a witch?

Better yet, how could Harry be a wizard?

She'd spent nearly her entire life walking around while never being seen or even acknowledged, helplessly watching from the sidelines as her brother was clouted by Dudley and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if she was really a witch, why hadn't she been able to them into warty toads every time they'd tried to lock Harry in his cupboard? If they'd once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick her brother around like a football?

Why was she unable to break through the veil that hid her existence from everyone?

"Hagrid," Harry said quietly, making her glance up. "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard."

"I agree," Harriet mumbled, closing her eyes. "I can't be a witch."

To their surprise, however, Hagrid chuckled.

"Not a wizard or a witch, eh?" he asked, winking at them. "Never made things happen when you was scared, or angry?"

Harriet blinked, since that much made sense: every odd thing that had ever made their aunt and uncle furious had happened when she and Harry had been either upset or angry: chased by Dudley's gang, both of them had somehow managed to get out of their reach... dreading going to school with his ridiculous haircut, the twins had managed to make their hair grow back... and the very last time Dudley had hit him, hadn't her brother gotten his revenge, without even realizing he was doing it? Hadn't he set a boa constrictor on him? Plus, the window behind her had vanished just after she'd leaned against it… had that been her fault, as well?

Harry and Harriet nodded and looked at Hagrid: he was positively beaming at them.

"See?" the giant chuckled. "The Potter Twins, not a witch or a wizard—you wait... you'll be right famous at Hogwarts. Even you, Harriet, but only to those who remember and those few who can still see you."

Sadly, Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you he's not going?" he hissed, glaring at the giant. "He's going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish—spell books and wands and—"

"If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop him," Hagrid growled. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's son and daughter from goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. Their names have been down ever since they was born. They're off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and they won't know themselves. They'll be with youngsters of their own sort fer a change, an' they'll be under the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled—"

"NO!" Uncle Vernon yelled. "I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!"

He had finally gone too far: Hagrid seized his umbrella and pointed it at him head.

"Never—" he thundered, glaring in a threatening manner, "insult Albus Dumbledore in front of me."

Around that moment, the giant noticed Dudley stuffing his face with the cake he'd brought for the twins.

He instantly brought the umbrella swishing down through the air and pointed it at their cousin—there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal. Seconds later, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harriet saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers and covered her mouth with both hands, muffling a fit of shocked laughter. Uncle Vernon roared: pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose there wasn't much ter change."

He cast a sideways look at Harry under his bushy eyebrows, then glanced at Harriet.

"Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," the giant said. "I'm—er—not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh—one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job."

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" Harry asked, blinking in surprise. "Did you get in trouble?"

"Oh, well—I was at Hogwarts meself but I—er—got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth," Hagrid admitted. "In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?" Harriet inquired, eyes widening in amazement.

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," Hagrid loudly exclaimed. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry before glancing at Harriet.

"You two can sleep under that," he grunted with a wink. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit… I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."


	5. Chapter 4: Diagon Alley

**Chapter Four: Diagon Alley**

When Harriet woke up early the next morning, it was only because Harry twitched and pulled his hand out of her own in order to scratch his itching nose. The girl slowly opened her soft green eyes and watched as her brother let out a sleepy sigh: she could tell he was awake despite not having her glasses on.

His eyes remained squeezed shut.

"It was a dream," the boy muttered to himself, making her blink with a confused expression. "I dreamed a giant came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes, I'll be at home in my cupboard again."

"I don't think you were dreaming, Harry," Harriet mumbled, imaging the way he might have looked at her if he'd been able to see her. "After all, two people having the same dream is crazy…"

However, the girl twitched and sat up when she heard a loud tapping noise coming from somewhere nearby.

She instantly blinked and squinted at the blurry form looming in the hut window before patting around for her glasses.

"There's Aunt Petunia, knocking on the cupboard," Harry muttered, still not opening his eyes. "I want the dream to continue…"

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"All right," Harry mumbled, opening his own eyes with a sigh of dismay. "I'm getting up."

Harriet, on the other hand, had frozen solid after putting her glasses on: the hut was full of sunlight, the storm from the previous night was over, Hagrid was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and… well, oddly enough, there was an owl rapping its claw on the window with a newspaper held in its beak. For a moment, the girl wondered if she'd gone mad and rubbed her eyes before staring at the owl again: it was still there.

"Curious," the girl muttered, closing her eyes. "Maybe I was mad all along… I don't understand what's going on."

She opened her eyes again when Harry scrambled to his feet: the moment she saw his face, her heart melted and her green eyes softened in a gentle manner. He looked so happy that his face had practically split with the smile that had spread across it: seeing him grin like that was rare… each time she got to see that smile was a moment she treasured.

It was the same smile he'd given her when he'd promised he'd never forget her.

Harriet stood up and yawned when her brother ran over to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up; the owl then fluttered on to the floor and began to attack the giant's coat, effectively making Harry go into a mild panic..

"Hey, don't do that," Harry exclaimed, trying to wave the owl out of the way; it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat; the boy instantly whirled around. 'Hagrid! There's an owl—"

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted, speaking into the sofa. "That's what he's waitin' fer."

Harriet did a double take and blinked at the man.

"What?" Harry asked, completely mirroring her inner thoughts for a change.

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper," the giant muttered. "Look in the pockets."

The dark-haired girl giggled when she saw her brother's dismayed expression: after all, Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing _but_ pockets. He had bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, mint humbugs, tea-bags... so many odd assortments of different things that it kind of baffled the girl. Then, Harry finally pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins, green eyes wide with wonder.

"Give him five Knuts," Hagrid said sleepily. "That's the typical paper fee."

"Knuts?" Harry and Harriet asked simultaneously. "What are knuts?"

"The little bronze coins," the giant grunted; Harriet watched as Harry counted out five little bronze coins; the owl held out its leg so he could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then it flew off through the open window. After a moment, Hagrid yawned loudly before sitting up and stretching. "Harry, Harriet…we'd best be off since we've lots ter do today. Gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

"I'm still amazed that you can see me, Mr. Hagrid," Harriet mumbled, shaking her head in confusion; the giant glanced at her and squinted a little bit. "Nobody seems to hear my name when its spoken, and when you talk about me, it's like… well, it's like the words don't seem reach the people you're speaking to. And when they do, everyone forgets what you said only minutes after. Last night, whenever you started talking about me, nobody remembered any of it."

"That's because th' spell I cast on yeh was meant to pinpoint yer location: it drowned out the curse fer a moment and you re-entered everyone's awareness," Hagrid instantly mumbled, letting out a bearlike yawn. "It's only a temp'rary thing, though… an' it has some unpleasant side effects, too. Now that it's worn off, it'll take 'bout a week an' a half before people even hear your name. N'fact… right now, it's even a bit difficult for _me_ to see you."

While Hagrid was speaking, Harry turned over the wizard coins and looked at them: he didn't even seem to hear the giant speaking, even though any rational person should have been able to. Anything to do with Harriet simply floated past listening ears... in reality, it was like nothing was being said at all.

It was almost as though anything to do with her couldn't affect anyone _aside_ from the beings who could see her.

"Um… Hagrid?" Harry suddenly asked, glancing up at the giant when he started pulling on his huge boots. "I haven't got any money—and you heard Uncle Vernon last night… he won't pay for me to go and learn magic."

"Yeah," Harriet sourly mumbled, averting her eyes. "Plus, even if he would, I'd get left out like always."

"Don't worry about that," Hagrid chuckled, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh really think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"Sorry?" Harry asked, frowning in puzzlement. "If their house was destroyed—"

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy!" Hagrid guffawed, slapping his knee; Harriet slid one of her brother's baggy T-shirts on and fluffed her hair out. "Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts, the Wizards' bank. Have a sausage… they're not bad cold—an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."

"Wizards have banks?" Harry asked, eyes widening in surprise. "As in, real banks?"

Even Harriet paused in order to stare at the giant: she was just as curious to hear the man's answer.

"Just the one: Gringotts," the giant chuckled. "Run by goblins."

Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding and Harriet's mouth fell open in surprise.

"Goblins?" the boy asked.

"As in, _goblins_ goblins?" Harriet quipped, staring at him with large eyes. "They really exist?"

"Yeah—so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that," Hagrid chuckled, drawing himself up proudly. "Never mess with goblins, kids: Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe—'cept for maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business, ya know? He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him... fetchin' you, gettin' things from Gringotts—knows he can trust me, see."

"I guess so," Harriet mumbled, staring at the ground. "Hey, Mr. Hagrid? How many people do you think remember me? Are there a lot?"

"That topic again?" Hagrid asked, furrowing his brows with a sigh. "I don't rightly know, Harriet… Dumbledore is definitely one of 'em, and I know several teachers who remember ya just as well, but as fer the rest… I can't say. Now, Harry… if you've got everythin', come on: it's time for us to go."

Harriet followed Hagrid and her brother out onto the rock: she took a deep breath when her shoulder-length hair was blasted back by the chilly morning breeze, closing her eyes: the sky was clear and the sea gleamed in the sunlight as she stood there. Sadly enough, when she finally opened her eyes, she saw Hagrid examing both her _and_ Harry with furrowed brows: he looked seriously confused for a few moments.

Harriet didn't blame him.

She had compared her own face to her brother's countless times in the past, but she hadn't been able to find a single huge difference in their facial features. So, basically, aside from the minor things… such as her thinner eyebrows, finer hair, fuller lips, and longer eyelashes… they pretty much had the same exact face.

People would have had a very hard time keeping track of who was who, regardless of their different genders, if Harriet had lived a normal life.

The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still sitting in the ocean: it had a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.

"How did you get here?" Harry asked, looking around for another boat.

"Flew," Hagrid said, shaking his head, "but we'll go back in this: not s'posed ter use magic now that I've got yeh."

Harriet carefully stepped into the boat and settled down in the boat; Harry and Hagrid followed suit.

"Mr. Hagrid, can you feel me?" Harriet suddenly asked, stretching out her finger and poking the giant's hand; he twitched and furrowed his brows, staring at her in total confusion. "Er… sorry. It's just, most people can't feel it when I touch them, nor do they notice if I move their body: to them, it's like they never even move in the first place."

"That so?" Hagrid asked, frowning even more deeply. "That's a might hard t' believe."

Harriet quirked and eyebrow and grabbed Harry's arm, lifting it high above his head and waving it back and forth in a flopping manner: Hagrid's eyes widened when she even went as far as grabbing his ear and pulling him off to the side so he was hanging over the edge of the water. There was no change whatsoever in Harry's expression: in fact, he continued looking around and didn't even seem to be aware of the pinching grip on his ear.

"Believe me now?" Harriet asked, frowning at him. "It's been like this since I was four: you're the first person in years who's... seen me."

"Well, that's… shocking, fer sure," Hagrid muttered, giving Harry another of his sideways looks; the giant didn't really seem to comprehend what he'd just witnessed, and he looked rather baffled. "Anyway, Harry… seems a shame ter row: if I was ter… ya know, speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

"Of course not!" Harry exclaimed; his sister could tell by the look in his eyes that he was eager to see more magic. "I'd never tell!"

Hagrid grinned, pulled out the pink umbrella again, and tapped it twice on the side of the boat: then they sped off towards land.

Harriet gasped and held onto the seat, eyes widening as her glasses were dislodged from her nose.

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Harry asked, glancing at the giant.

"Spells—enchantments," Hagrid muttered, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the high-security vaults, and then yeh gotta find yer way—Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see, deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."

Harriet thought about that while Hagrid read his newspaper, the Daily Prophet.

"So, basically," Harriet stated slowly, giving a little shrug, "you're saying that there's an entire world that only a few special people know about?"

"Right you are," Hagrid confirmed, giving a small nod without looking up; then he scowled and turned the page. "Ministry o' Magic's messin' things up as usual."

'Sorry?" Harry asked, head snapping up in surprise. "There's a Ministry of Magic?"

"'Course," Hagrid snorted, glancing up at him in surprise. "They wanted Dumbledore fer the Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one… he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."

"But what does a Ministry of Magic do?" Harriet asked, frowning in confusion. "What are they for?"

"You see, _Harry," _Hagrid stated firmly, catching the boy's attention; he was being careful not to make eye contact with her, since he'd apparently noticed that nobody could hear what he was saying if he did so. "The Ministry's main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there're still witches an' wizards up an' down the country."

"Why?" Harry asked, cocking his head. "Is there any particular reason you have to hide it?"

"Blimey, Harry!" Hagrid scoffed. "Everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems! We're best left alone."

Around that moment, the boat gently bumped into the harbor wall.

Hagrid immediately folded up his newspaper and helped both twins clamber up the stone steps and onto the street: lots of passerby stared a lot at Hagrid when they walked through the little town to the station. Honestly, Harriet couldn't even blame them for it, either: not only was the guy twice as tall as anyone else, he also kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things and made several outrageously bizarre comments.

"Hagrid," Harry said, panting a bit as he ran to keep up with the man's long legs, "did you say there are Dragons at Gringotts?"

"Well, so they say," Hagrid stated, shaking his head. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

"You'd like one?" Harriet asked, blinking in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"After all, _Harry_, I've wanted one ever since I was a kid," the giant explained, turning his head and giving her a wink before she could start pouting; it was around that moment when she realized he had come up with the perfect way to answer her questions as well as several of her brother's at the same time. "Ah, here we go."

_I'll have to remember that method in the future,_ the girl silently noted, pushing her broken glasses up her nose with a hopeful expression. _Maybe I'll be able to figure out a way to make people listen to me if I use it._

After about ten minutes of walking, the three of them had reached the station: there was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand 'Muggle money' as he called it, gave the notes to Harry so he could buy their tickets… and since Harriet wasn't exactly visible to most people, she was able to get a free ride.

People stared more than ever on the train, though… after all, Hagrid took up two seats and started knitting what _looked_ like a canary-yellow circus tent. Heck, even Harriet had started staring at him by that point.

"Still got yer letter, Harry?" he asked, counting the stitches; her brother carefully took the parchment envelope out of his pocket and held it up. "Good… there's a list there of everything yeh need inside it."

Harriet blinked and leaned over Harry's shoulder when he unfolded a second piece of paper that neither of them had noticed the night before. Hooking a strand of hair behind her ear, the girl tilted her head and began to read.

* * *

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY**

**Uniform**

_Male first-year students will require:_

Six sweater vests, two neck-ties, six button-up dress shirts (white, with 3 short-sleeves for the warmer seasons), six pairs of dress slacks (black), socks (white), and one set of dress shoes (black)

_Female first-year students will require_:

Six sweater vests, two neck-scarves, neckties, and/or lace ribbons, six button-up dress shirts (white, with 3 short-sleeves for the warmer seasons), six pleated skirts (knee-length, black), stockings (white), and one set of dress shoes (black)

**_All students will require:_**

Three sets of plain work robes (black)  
One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)  
(Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags)

**Required Books**

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk  
A History of Magic, by Bathilda Bagshot  
Magical Theory, by Adalbert Waffling  
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, by Emeric Switch  
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, by Phyllida Spore  
Magical Drafts and Potions, by Arsenius Jigger  
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, by Newt Scamander  
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, by Quentin Trimble

**Other Equipment**

1 wand  
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
1 set glass or crystal phials  
1 telescope  
1 set brass scales

(Students may also bring a phoenix OR an owl OR a cat OR a rat OR a toad)

**PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT**  
**ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS**

* * *

"Whoa," Harriet mumbled, shaking her head and rereading the page with raised brows. "I must've gone mad at some point. Is this a real school list?"

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered aloud. "Do they even sell things like this anymore?"

"Yes," Hagrid said, leaning down with a grin, "if yeh know where to go."

Harriet had never been to London before, and although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he obviously wasn't used to getting there in an ordinary fashion. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground and loudly complained that the seats were too small and the trains were going too slow.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said, grumbling as they climbed a broken-down escalator which led up to a bustling road lined with shops. Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry and Harriet had to do in order to move was keep close behind him. The trio passed book shops and music stores, hamburger bars and cinemas, but there was nowhere that looked as if it could sell someone a magic wand.

This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people…

_Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath us? _Harriet wondered, keeping a firm hold on her brother's slightly rougher hand. _Are there really shops that sell spell books and broomsticks? Could this all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up?_ _Um… no, now I really am going mad: I know better than anyone else alive that my aunt and uncle have no sense of humor._

Even though she was tempted to believe the man, especially after casting that spell on her, everything Hagrid had told the two of them so far was pretty much unbelievable. She was kind of in shock over it: she didn't understand anything at all, and she now had more questions than she'd originally started out with. However, Harry couldn't help trusting the giant, and she didn't blame him one bit. Hagrid was a really nice person: she liked him a lot, too.

'This is it," the giant chuckled, coming to a halt. "The Leaky Cauldron… it's a famous place."

Harriet examined it in surprise: it was a very tiny and extremely grubby-looking pub.

If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, the girl wouldn't have even noticed it was there: the people hurrying by didn't glance at it, either… their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other, almost as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harriet had the most peculiar feeling that only she, Harry, and Hagrid could see it. Which was also something that felt extremely familiar to the poor girl.

Before she could mention the similarities, however, Hagrid steered the two of them inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby: a few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry… and one of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old barman, who was quite bald and looked like a gummy walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked inside, though: everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved, they smiled at him, and the barman reached for a glass.

'The usual, Hagrid?" he asked, glancing at the giant. "Figured it was due time you showed up."

"I can't, Tom… I'm on Hogwarts business," Hagrid exclaimed, moving behind the twins and clapping his great hands on each of their skinny shoulders; Harry's knees nearly buckled under the weight, but Harriet's actually did give out. She thumped down on her butt, blinking and feeling confused.

"Mr. Hagrid," the girl whined, slowly standing up and rubbing her throbbing backside. "That hurt…"

"Oops, sorry," the giant chuckled, wincing apologetically. "Didn't mean to knock yeh over."

"Good Lord," the barman whispered, peering straight at Harry and Harriet; the girl blinked again and her eyes lit up with total delight when she realized that he was, in fact, looking right at her. "Are they… can they be…?"

"He can see me, too!" Harriet whispered, nudging Hagrid with a small squeal of glee. "He can see me!"

"That he can," the giant sighed, rubbing his eyes, "but out of everyone in here, he's one of the only two."

"Bless my soul… it's Harry and Harriet Potter," the old barman whispered. "What an honor."

The Leaky Cauldron suddenly went completely still and silent.

He instantly hurried out from behind the bar, rushed towards the twins, and seized their hands with tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Potter Children…" he exclaimed, eyes gleaming with emotion. "Welcome back."

Harry nor Harriet knew what to say: almost everyone was looking at her brother, but the old woman with the pipe was looking right at her with solemn eyes and puffing on it without even realizing it had gone out. Harriet nodded to the woman with a soft smile around the same moment that Hagrid started beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs.

Harry soon found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last!"

"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand – I'm all aflutter."

"Delighted, Mr Potter, just can't tell you. Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

After getting knocked around by the people who couldn't see her or feel her, Harriet backed off and merely watched as her brother was showered with attention. The old woman smoking the pipe remained sitting: her eyes had narrowed and she seemed to be observing the girl with a keen gaze.

"I've seen you before!" Harry suddenly exclaimed, catching his sister's attention; Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop!"

"He remembers!" Dedalus cried, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? He remembers me!"

Harry shook hands again and again—Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

Then the old woman smoking the pipe got up and walked over... moving right past Harry, who didn't even notice that she'd moved. In reality, nobody noticed since her eyes were locked on Harriet: with shaking arms, she wrapped the girl in a gentle embrace and pulled her into a hug. The girl's green eyes widened in shock when the scent of grandmotherly perfume washed over her: she'd never been given a hug by anyone but Harry... and he'd only done it twice.

"You are a very strong, very brave girl," the woman sighed, glancing at Hagrid and the barkeep; both males nodded solemnly. "It must be so tough..."

Harriet didn't really know how to respond to that: simply being seen by someone, anyone, was good enough for her.

After a while, a pale young man made his way forward, very nervously.

One of his eyes was twitching, and he was looking at Harry... but then, his gaze slid over to Harriet, and she smiled.

He could see her as well: three people could see her, plus the snake back at the zoo.

It was official: she was real.

"Professor Quirrell!" Hagrid exclaimed, looking extremely surprised. "Harry… _Harriet_… Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," Professor Quirrell stammered, grasping Harry's hand and shaking it before doing the same with Harriet; he purposely looked away from her afterwards. "C-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked, looking extremely curious.

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," Professor Quirrell muttered, speaking almost as though he'd rather not think about it too much. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter? You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself."

He looked terrified at the very thought.

Sadly, the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself: it took almost ten minutes to get her brother away from them all.

At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

"Must get on—lots ter buy," the giant bellowed. "Come on, Harry, and let's go Harriet."

Harriet watched as Doris Crockford shook her brother's hand one last time; then the old woman in front of her gave her a gentle hug goodbye. After that, Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard… where nothing but a dustbin and a few weeds was visible.

Hagrid grinned at the twins.

"That was kind of shocking," Harriet mumbled. "Harry was showered with attention, and... and… I got hugged!"

"Told yeh, didn't I?" the giant snorted, keeping his eyes fastened on Harry: he was figuring out ways to respond to the girl without actually triggering the effects of the curse that had been cast on her. "Told yeh you was famous, didn't I? Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh… mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?" Harry asked, frowning in concern.

"Oh, yeah," Hagrid confirmed, giving him a serious nod, "poor bloke… he has a brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books, you know, but then he took a year off ter get some first-hand experience. They say he met some real vampires in the Black Forest, and there was also a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag… he's never been the same since then. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject—now, where's me umbrella?"

"Vampires?" Harriet whispered, heart dropping through the floor. "Hags?"

Her head instantly started swimming.

Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the dustbin.

'Three up... two across..." he muttered, then glanced at Harry. "Right… stand back… both of yeh."

Harriet obediently backed away and stood beside her brother, watching as he tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella. The brick he touched immediately quivered—it wriggled—in the middle before it began to turn and a small hole appeared. More bricks began to turn, almost seeming to fold inward on themselves, until the opening grew wider and wider: seconds later, the twins were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid to pass through, an archway on to a cobbled street which twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," Hagrid said proudly, grinning at Harriet first before looking at Harry, "to Diagon Alley."

The giant grinned even wider at her brother's gasp amazement. Harriet shivered when they stepped through the archway, unable to believe what she was seeing; however, both the girl and the boy looked quickly over their shoulders when they heard the sound of grinding bricks. They twitched almost simultaneously when they saw the archway folding instantly back into solid wall.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop.

Harriet instantly let go of Harry's hand and skipped over to the sign hanging over them.

"'_Cauldrons,_" she read aloud, pushing her old glasses up her nose. "'_All Sizes – Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver –Self-Stirring – Collapsible…_"

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," Hagrid said aloud, glancing at the sky, "but we gotta get yer money first."

Harriet instantly shivered and skipped back over to her twin, sliding her hand into his and squeezing it with trembling fingers: in all honesty, she wished she had about eight more eyes. The girl turned her head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. Harry was no better: he was doing the same thing.

A plump woman outside an apothecary's was shaking her head as they passed.

"Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce," she muttered. "They're mad..."

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop, catching Harriet's attention: she glanced at the sign.

"_Eeylops Owl Emporium,_" she murmured, blinking a few times in amazement. "_Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy."_

While she was gawking at the owl store, Harry was busy looking at another: several boys around their age had their noses pressed against a window with a bunch of broomsticks resting inside of it.

"Look," Harriet heard one of them say, making the girl glance away from the owl sign. "It's the Nimbus Two Thousand—fastest ever!"

"I'd eat spider goop if it could get me that broom!" another boy boasted. "It's a real beauty…"

Harriet shuddered and continued looking around: there were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments that she'd never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon... every odd and end she could have ever imagined was right in front of her.

"Gringotts," Hagrid finally said.

They had reached a snowy-white building which towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was… er… was a…

"H-Hagrid, look!" Harriet squeaked, snatching her brother's sleeve and hiding behind him. "What is that?!"

"H-Hagrid…" Harry stammered a split second later, eyeing the creature. "What exactly is that thing?"

"That's a goblin," Hagrid said quietly, walking up the white stone steps towards it; the goblin was about a head shorter than Harriet. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard as well as very long fingers and feet; the girl twitched and pressed her face against Harry's shoulder when he bowed just as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed  
Of what awaits the sin of greed,  
For those who take, but do not earn,  
Must pay most dearly in return,  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there._

"How charming," Harriet muttered sarcastically, shaking her head. "What a comforting quote."

"Like I said," Hagrid chuckled, "yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it."

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors, ushering them into a vast marble hall.

Harriet's mouth fell open and Harry's bright green eyes bugged behind his glasses when they realized about a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins on brass scales, and examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet… more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid, Harriet, and Harry all made for the counter.

"Morning," Hagrid stated to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. and Ms. Potter's safe."

"Oh?" the goblin asked, not seeming to notice the girl standing beside them. "And does Mr. Potter have his key?"

"Right," Hagrid muttered, frowning before he started emptying his pockets onto the counter. "Got it here somewhere."

Harriet blinked when he accidently scattered a handful of moldy dog-biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers; the creature immediately wrinkled his nose. Harry turned his head and watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals; his sister followed his gaze, realizing after a moment that several people as well as several goblins were staring at him… but nobody, not even a single being, was looking at her.

She'd hoped she'd have been able to meet more people who would acknowledge her existence.

Apparently she'd hoped in vain.

"Got it," Hagrid said at last, holding up a tiny golden key before throwing out his chest. "An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore: it's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin took the key and the letter, looking at both of them closely.

Then the goblin read the letter, carefully examining what was written down on it.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, 'I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog-biscuits back inside his pockets, he, Harriet, and Harry followed the creature towards one of the doors leading off the hall.

"Hagrid?" Harry asked, glancing up in curiosity. "What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?"

"Can't tell yeh that," Hagrid said mysteriously. "Very secret Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me, and it's More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that.'

When Griphook held the door open for them, Harriet—who had expected more marble—was surprised to find that they were now in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downwards and there were little railway tracks on the floor.

Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks towards them.

The twins hesitantly climbed in with Hagrid—albeit with some difficulty on the giant's part—and were off. At first, they simply hurtled through a maze of twisting passages: Harriet could tell by the look on her brother's face that he was trying to remember the route they were taking, but she'd already given up: left, right,right, left, middle fork, right, left… it was impossible.

The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, too, because Griphook wasn't steering it.

Harriet's green eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but she kept them wide open and examined everything around her. Once, she thought she saw a burst of fire at the end of a dark passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late—they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew.

"Hagrid?" Harry suddenly called over the noise of the cart. "What's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalagmite's got an "m" in it," Hagrid grumbled, speaking very precicely. "An' don' ask me questions just now… I think I'm gonna be sick."

He did look very green… and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees trembling. Griphook unlocked the door and a lot of green smoke came billowing out… but when it cleared, Harry and Harriet alike gasped in total shock. For several moments, their stunned expressions were identical... because inside were mounds of gold coins… columns of silver… heaps of little bronze Knuts.

The entire room was so full of money that, in some places, the gold stretched from the floor to the ceiling.

"All yours," Hagrid chuckled, grinning at the twins individually. "These are your savings."

_This... this fortune is ours? _Harriet vaguely wondered, heart thudding madly with shock. _Bloody hell,_ t_his is totally brilliant! Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia_ _couldn't have known about this or they'd have taken it faster than anything we could have imagined! They were always complaining about how much it cost to keep my brother healthy… and all this time there was a fortune belonging to us, buried deep under London._

It was magical: that was the only way she could describe it.

After a few moments, Hagrid helped Harry and Harriet pile some of it into two bags.

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained, glancing at the twins. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle: it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, and we'll keep the rest safe for yeh."

"If you say so…" Harriet whispered, shaking her head; Hagrid then turned to Griphook.

"Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please," he muttered, "and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," Griphook stated.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. When they went rattling over an underground ravine, Harry leaned over the side in an attempt to see what was down at the bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck. Then they stopped: they'd finally arrived, but oddly enough… vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," Griphook said importantly, waving them off; he then stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers, but Harriet gasped when it simply melted away. "If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there."

"Really?" Harry asked. "Well… how often do you check to see if anyone's inside?"

"About once every ten years," Griphook said, with a rather nasty grin. "We're very thorough."

Harriet figured that something really extraordinary had to be inside this top-security vault: Harry was definitely sure, that much was obvious. The girl watched as he leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see some fabulous jewels at the very least… but at first, the two of them stared since they thought the vault was empty. Then Harriet noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart," Hagrid grumbled, shaking his head, "and don't talk to me on the way back… it's best if I keep me mouth shut."


	6. Chapter 5: Wand-Shopping

**Chapter Five: Wand-Shopping**

By the time they left Gringotts, Harriet felt kind of dazed: after another wild cart-ride later, they'd found themselves blinking in the sunlight just outside of the wizard's bank. The girl slowly jingled the bag in her hand with a fair amount of caution, then proceeded to pinch her cheek just to make sure she wasn't dreaming. Harry, on the other hand, looked like he was itching to go look at everything in every store: she didn't even blame him, either.

Harriet didn't know where to turn now that she had a bag full of money. She didn't have to know how many Galleons there were compared to a pound in order to know that she was holding more money than she'd had in her whole life—more money than even Dudley had ever had. Although, part of that did stem from the fact that nobody could see her: she'd had no need for money since she'd shared everything with her brother.

Actually… she was actually lucky that Harry had always been around since she might not have survived without him: nobody had ever set out a plate for her during the meals since they'd forgotten she'd existed, so she'd always eaten from the same plate as him. On top of that, she'd worn his clothes, adopted his oldest glasses as her own, and shared all of Dudley's hand-me-downs with him. Harriet glanced down at herself with glazed eyes.

She didn't have a single thing that really belonged to her, even as far as clothes went.

"Might as well get yer uniforms," Hagrid sighed, nodding towards Madam Malkin's Robes and Clothes for All Occasions; her brother didn't even notice the plural use of the word and merely nodded with an eager expression. "Listen, Harry… would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts."

"Of course," Harry mumbled, giving a nod; since he did still look a bit sick, the boy entered Madam Malkin's shop alone. Hagrid stopped his sister from doing the same just as she was about to follow him. When she glanced up at the giant, he gave her a firm expression.

"Yer case is a bit difficult," Hagrid sighed, patting her arm. "If she can't see you, come find me an' we'll get it all sorted out, all right?"

"Yes, sir," the girl mumbled, giving him a somber nod. "I'll do that."

And with that, she followed her brother into the shop.

When Harriet's eyes had adjusted to the dimness of her surroundings, she beheld a squat witch with a firm smile dressed in mauve talking to her brother: after a moment, she guessed it to be the the owner, Madam Malkin. In the back of the shop was a boy with bleached blonde hair and a pale, angular face: he was standing on a footstool while a witch pinned up a set of long black robes over his new school uniform. Madam Malkin had ushered Harry onto a stool right next to him just as she walked in; the girl paused when the woman slipped a long robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length. However, Harriet nearly fainted in relief when the woman glanced up and paused, grey eyes focusing right on her face.

Apparently the woman could, in fact, see her.

It felt good to exist.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she called, adjusting her brother's robes with practiced hands. "Got the lot here… two young men and a young lady! Ms. Mumfree, new arrival!"

"Coming!" a cheerful voice called; within seconds, a plump blonde witch with freckles from head to toe came bouncing out of a back room and glanced right at Harriet. "Well, aren't you just the cutest little thing! Come along! We'll get you fitted in a jiffy!"

"Sorry?" Harriet asked, blinking when the woman grabbed her skinny wrist and pulled her into a room that was completely separate from the boys.

After a moment, the woman measured her size with some sort of floating orb and peered into it.

Then she puttered out of the room.

However, when she came back, the woman was carrying a button-up white T-shirt, a red-and-gold sweater vest, a pair of shoes, a pair of stockings, and a pleated black skirt. Harriet blinked when the witch put the clothes on the stool and conjured a robe out of nowhere.

"Whoa!" the girl squeaked, floundering as it went over her head; then it slid down over her neck and she blinked, watching as the blonde woman started working on the hems. "Um… excuse me, Ma'am, but… what are those other clothes for?"

"It's your new Hogwarts uniform," the witch explained, giving her a wink. "I'll make you look cute as a button for your first year, don't you worry!"

"O-Okay," Harriet sighed, closing her eyes and waiting until the woman had finished adjusting the robes in order to take more measurements. Once she was done, however, the witch left the fitting area with the instructions to change into her school outfit while she went and found the correct robes in her size. Harriet hesitantly did as she was told and began taking Dudley's ragged clothes off, sliding the shirt over her head and dropping her pants and undershorts. She had sadly been forced to wear male underwear since she hadn't ever gotten any over her own, ever.

However, under the skirt was a pair of girl's underwear, as well as a training bra.

Harriet blinked in surprise, then glanced down at her flat chest.

"I don't need it yet, though," she mumbled, sliding it on despite her flushed cheeks; then she slid the underwear on, donned the pleated skirt, and buttoned up the white dress shirt. She was just in the middle of sliding the sweater vest over her head when the blonde woman returned with a robe in her size.

However, the witch paused and glanced at her in admiration.

"Cute as a button," Miss Mumfree murmured, nodding when Harriet fluffed her glossy black hair away from her neckline. "I knew those colors would suit you."

"Thank you, Ma'am," Harriet peeped, shyly pushing her glasses up her nose; then she donned the calf-high stockings and her new dress shoes. "Thank you."

When the woman started making adjustments to her new robes and added some final touches, Harriet blinked since she heard her brother's voice.

She soon got a snippet of a quiet conversation coming from somewhere nearby: the girl instantly cocked her head and listened.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," a boy stated in a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at the racing brooms… honestly, I don't see why first-years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Harriet was strongly reminded of Dudley for some reason.

"Lift your arms, dear," Ms. Mumfree chortled. "I'm almost finished."

Harriet did as she was told and lifted her arms.

"Have you got your own broom?" the nearby boy asked.

"No," Harry's voice mumbled, making her blink, "I don't."

"Play Quidditch at all?" the other boy asked.

"No," her brother repeated, "I don't."

Harriet instantly wondered what on earth Quidditch could be.

"I do," the boy sighed. "Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," Harry deadpanned a third time. "I don't."

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they?" the boy muttered, speaking as though he knew a lot about whatever he was talking about. "I already know I'll be in Slytherin since everyone in my family has… imagine being in Hufflepuff! I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," Harry mumbled noncommittally.

"There we are, dearie!" Miss Mumfree suddenly giggled, finally stepping away from Harriet. "All finished!"

"Thank you," Harriet stammered again, giving her a little bow of thanks. "I appreciate it!"

"I say," the nearby boy suddenly exclaimed. "Look at that man over in the front window!"

When Harriet turned around and poked her head into the main room, she spotted Hagrid standing there.

He was grinning at what she presumed to be Harry and pointing at three large ice-creams to show that he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," Harry suddenly explained, sounding pleased. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," the boy snorted, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," Harry murmured, faltering a bit. "I don't know about being a servant."

Harriet scowled: she was liking the boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly… I heard he's a savage," the blonde sighed. "Lives in a hut on the school grounds. He gets drunk, tries to do magic, and sets fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," Harry said coldly.

"Do you?" the boy asked with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," Harry shortly retorted.

"Oh, sorry," said the other, not sounding sorry at all, "but they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard," Harry quietly muttered, "if that's what you mean."

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you?" the other boy asked, making Harriet clench her fists in irritation. "They're just not the same… they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

However, Madam Malkin spoke before Harry could answer.

"That's you done, my dear," she murmured, patting his head. "Run along now."

Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.

"Well," said the drawling boy, "I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose."

However, when Harry left the shop… not even a second later, he glanced up and frowned in confusion since Harriet followed him: she left the shop without even realizing that he had seen her… but thankfully, he hadn't actually managed to get a glimpse of her face.

Still, both twins were rather quiet as they ate the ice-cream Hagrid had bought them.

"What's up?" Hagrid asked, glancing down at them.

"Nothing," Harry lied, not lifting his eyes; when the giant glanced at Harriet, she wordlessly nodded her agreement. However, when they stopped to buy parchment and quills, Harry cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote; likewise, Harriet was delighted when she found a pen that shifted in hue to match the holder's mood. When they had left the shop, Harry obviously had something on his mind: Harriet could tell by his expression.

"Hagrid?" he finally asked. "What's Quidditch?'

"Blimey, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know," the giant bellowed. "Not knowin' about Quidditch!"

"Don't make me feel worse," Harry muttered, then proceeded to tell Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin's. Harriet kept her eyes trained on the ground and her hands clasped in front of her since she wasn't used to walking around in a skirt. Every puff of air caused the fabric to billow around her legs, but she actually found the sensation to be pleasant. It was also easier for her to move around in a skirt rather than pants, somehow.

"Yer not from a Muggle family," Hagrid suddenly exclaimed, making the girl glance up in surprise; she hadn't been paying attention to their conversation. "He's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk… after all, you saw 'em in the Leaky Cauldron. Anyway, what does he know about it? Some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line o' Muggles—look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"

Harriet couldn't deny that it made quite a bit of sense.

"So," Harry muttered, glancing up at the giant, "what is Quidditch?"

"It's our sport… a wizard sport," Hagrid sighed, scratching his head. "It's like… like football in the Muggle world: everyone follows Quidditch—played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls… erm, sorta hard ter explain the rules."

"It sounds like a really complicated game," Harriet noted, stretching her arms and twirling around in a circle; her skirt fanned out like a flower, effectively making her grin, before swirling back down around her knees. "I love my new clothes! I'm finally wearing a dress!"

"What do yeh mean?" Hagrid scoffed, glancing at her in surprise. "Yeh've never worn a dress 'till now?"

Harry, once again, didn't seem to realize he was speaking since the giant's eyes were locked on Harriet's face again. The boy was looking right at him, too, so he should have noticed that his mouth was moving… but he didn't: he remained completely oblivious.

"Er… no, I haven't," Harriet explained, blinking at him. "I've never really had anything of my own, actually… clothes, items, food, even these glasses—they all came from Harry since I use his belongings just as much as he does. Nobody noticed me, so I had no choice."

"Yer tellin' me," the giant stated slowly, furrowing his brows, "that yeh've never had a single girly thing of yer own the entire time yeh were livin' with the Dursleys?"

"No, I haven't," the girl confirmed, giving him a genuinely confused expression. "Why? It's not like anybody can see me anyway, so there's really no point in dressing nice… right?"

"Still, that ain't right," he muttered, shaking his head in thought. "Not at all."

"Hagrid?" Harry finally asked, drawing his attention again. "What are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School houses," the man muttered. "There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but—"

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff," Harry gloomily interrupted. "I wouldn't be surprised."

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," Hagrid said darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin… in fact, 'You-Know-Who' was one."

"Vol…" Harry began to ask, then stopped. "Sorry… you-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"

"Years an' years ago," Hagrid muttered. "It was a dark time, too."

He said no more after that.

The man bought their school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts, a place where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who had never read anything before, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these.

Harriet giggled since Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Counter-Curses (Bewitch your Friends and Befuddle your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and much, much more) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley," he complained, making his sister burst into a fit of unseen hysterics. "Why'd you do that?"

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not supposed ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," Hagrid scolded. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet… yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level."

Hagrid wouldn't let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, either, but they got nice sets of scales for weighing potion ingredients and two collapsible brass telescopes. Then they visited the apothecary's, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell… which was a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages.

Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor, jars of herbs, dried roots and bright powders lined the walls, bundles of feathers, strings of fangs and snarled claws hung from the ceiling.

While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for the twins, Harriet examined the silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery black beetle eyes… which were five Knuts a scoop.

Outside the apothecary's, Hagrid checked their list again.

"Just yer wands left," he muttered, but then his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present. Either one of ya, in fact…"

Harriet's eyes widened and Harry's face turned red.

"You don't have to—" Harry began.

"That's not necce—" Harriet exclaimed at the same time.

"I know that… I'm doin' it because I want to," he muttered, shaking his head. "We just have Ollivanders left now—only place fer wands. Yeh gotta have the best wands."

A magic wand... in reality, this was what both Harriet and Harry Potter had been really looking forward to since they'd come across this magical side of life. The last shop was narrow and shabby, and the peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.

A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single spindly chair which Hagrid sat on to wait; Harriet clasped her brother's hand and tentatively looked around, green eyes large with unease.

She felt, strangely enough, as though she had entered a very strict library; she swallowed and looked at the thousands of narrow boxes that had been piled neatly right up to the ceiling in every corner of the room. For some reason, the back of her neck prickled: the very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," a soft voice said; Harry and Harriet jumped and whirled around at the same time; Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he quickly got off the spindly chair. An old man was standing before them: his wide, pale eyes were shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

He glanced at both twins… making Harriet sigh in relief.

He could also see her… she was losing count of how many people had looked at her that day.

"Hello," Harry awkwardly greeted.

"Hi," Harriet shyly added, clasping her hands together.

"Ah yes," the man said slowly, glancing back and forth between the twins. "Yes, yes… I thought I'd be seeing you soon, Harry and Harriet Potter… you both have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday that she was in here herself, buying her first wand… ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander slowly moved closer to Harriet; the girl wished he would blink.

Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

Then he turned his gaze on Harry.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand," he continued. "Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it, but it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Harriet shivered as she watched the man: Mr. Ollivander had leaned so close to her brother that the two of them were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself being reflected in those misty eyes. He glanced at Harry's forehead… then turned his gaze on Harriet's.

"And that's where..." Mr. Ollivander sighed, touching the two lightning scars with a long, white finger. "Yes… I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it: thirteen and a half inches. Yew. A powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."

He shook his head… but then, to the relief of both twins, spotted Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again!" he exclaimed. "Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir," Hagrid confirmed, giving him a nod. "Yes."

"Good wand, that one," Mr. Ollivander said, suddenly becoming stern, "but I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?"

"Er—yes, they did," Hagrid said, shuffling his feet. 'I've still got the pieces, though."

"But you don't use them?" Mr. Ollivander sharply inquired.

"Oh, no, sir," Hagrid quickly explained. "Not at all… anyway, I have some business to attend to, so I'll be back in about thirty minutes time."

Harriet noticed that he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

After Hagrid had hurried out, the girl dusted her skirt off and swished around,

"Well, now… let's start with you, Mr. Potter," the man murmured, then glanced at Harriet and smirked at her in amusement. "Ms. Potter, I must implore you to remain cautious until the right wand has been selected. I am aware that very few people can see you, but If I'm not mistaken, that doesn't mean you cannot get injured. Am I wrong?"

"Um… no," Harriet warily confirmed, halting with her spinning.

"Let me see," he muttered, pulling a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket and glancing at the boy. "Which is your wand arm?'

"Er – well," Harry stammered, blinking in surprise. "I'm right-handed."

"Hold out your arm. That's it," the man chuckled; Harriet watched as he measured her brother from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and even round his head. "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, the heartstrings of dragons… no two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

"Really?" Harriet asked, glancing at him in surprise. "I wonder what kind of wand I'll get…"

However, the girl gasped when the man walked away, leaving the tape measure behind. It took Harry a moment to realize what was happening, but his eyes flashed open wide when he suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring the spot between his nostrils, was doing it all on its own.

Mr. Ollivander was currently flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," the man called, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "All right then, Mr. Potter… try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches, nice and flexible. Take it and give it a wave."

Harriet blinked when Harry took the wand and hesitated… but then he waved it.

Almost immediately, a set of shelves exploded out of the wall one after the other, making the boy flinch back with a startled expression; after they fell to the floor, he meekly put the wand back on the counter and jerked his hands away with a fearful expression.

"Apparently not," Mr. Ollivander murmured; then his eyes flashed and he grabbed another wand from a nearby box. "Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try it."

Harry took it, and almost fearfully gave it a wave.

Harriet let out a small shriek and ducked out of the way when a huge vase exploded not even a foot away from her, sending glass shards, flowers, and water all over the place. Her twin instantly jerked back and the wand merchant looked extremely startled.

"No, no, definitely not!" he instantly exclaimed, getting out another one. "No, no… here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Harry tried again; a globe burst into flames. And again: a shelf cracked down the middle. Harriet had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for, but the pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher and the increasing destruction was pretty bad.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere," the old man finaly chuckled, shaking his head; then he paused. "I wonder… it's a very unusual combination… yew and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple…"

When he held it out, Harry shakily took the wand… but his hair was unexpectedly lifted around his ears and a gentle wind suddenly filled the shop. Harriet closed her eyes and shivered when a sudden warmth erupted in her scar: her brother slowly raised the wand above his head and brought it swishing down through the dusty air.

And a golden glow shot from the end with a flash of light, throwing dancing spots of glittering color along the walls.

"Curious..." Mr. Ollivander muttered, narrowing his eyes; he slowly put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering. "How very curious..."

"'Sorry," Harry said, shaking his head, "but what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare, then flicked his eyes to where Harriet was standing off to the side.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter," he stated firmly. "Every single wand. It just so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather now rests in your wand also gave another feather… just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother… gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed and Harriet shivered violently.

_Odd coincidence,_ the girl silently murmured. _Very curious indeed._

"Yes, thirteen and a half inches," Mr. Ollivander murmured. "Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen: the wand chooses the wizard, remember...I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... after all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things. Terrible, yes… but great."

"I see," Harry murmured, shivering; he paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, then left the shop to wait for Hagrid. Harriet slowly stepped forward out of the shadows when Mr. Ollivander looked at her. His mouth slid into a smirk when he took in their only slightly different features.

"Well, now… I guess it's time to find your wand, Ms. Potter," Mr. Ollivander chuckled, pulling down the first one; the girl clutched the front of her skirt and watched as the man held out a slender, stick-like wand. "Birch and Dragon Heartstrings, ten inches, thin and sturdy."

With shaking fingers, the girl grasped it and jerkily gave it a wave.

She squeaked and dropped it in horror when every glass object in the room exploded with a thunderous roaring noise; the look on Mr. Ollivander's face, to say the least, scared her badly for some reason. The reason? It was because he himself looked scared.

"Definitely… not," he muttered slowly, eyeing her before pulling down another wand and holding it out with an observant expression. "Cherry wood and unicorn hair, eight inches… thick and swishy. Give it a wave, Ms. Potter…"

"Y-y-yes, sir," the girl stammered, squeezing her eyes shut and doing as she was told; a concussive implosion rattled the windows and the sound of something wooden cracking met her ears. When she opened her eyes, the counter had an enormous crack in it.

"Seems like my store is suffering some hard weathering," the man muttered, pulling out another wand with another frown. "I wonder… could it be? No… but perhaps… yew and Dragon heartstrings, ten inches… thick and supple."

When he held it out, she took it… but in that moment, she felt warmth radiating throughout her fingertips and the wand erupted with a brilliant golden light similar to the one that had engulfed the tip of her brother's. The girl closed her eyes as she was bathed in a fiery wind that warmed her up from the inside out. Her shoulder-length black hair swirled around her ears in gleaming tendrils as she stood there.

However, when she opened her eyes, Mr. Ollivander was staring at the glow with wide eyes.

"Curious," the man whispered, slowly looking up at her. "It seems as though the only other wand in relation with the one I've just sold to your brother has chosen you, Ms. Potter: this wand… was made from the same tree as the one that chose your brother… and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And yet… and yet… it is very powerful. Be careful: it is not the wand that makes the strength of the magic, my dear. No, the real source of power lies in the one who's holding it."

"Y-yes, sir," Harriet squeaked, pulling out the same amount of money as her brother and waiting for him to wrap it up. "If you say so… thank you."

However, when she took her new wand and walked out of the store, she saw Harry gawking at something that Hagrid was holding. When he held out a cage and saw a beautiful white owl with gorgeous yellow eyes, her heart fluttered and she hurried over in delight.

"Happy Birthday, Harry!" the giant boomed, grinning at the boy; then he turned to the girl and his eyes became uncomfortable for a moment. For a few seconds, he awkwardly scratched his nose… but then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package before pressing it into her hands. "Happy Birthday, Harriet…"

When she blinked and opened it up, the girl's eyes lit up: inside the little box was a gorgeous crystal barrette in the shape of a butterfly, and even as she watched, the wings seemed to move and shift as though it were alive. Beside it were two stick-on earrings that had been shaped like little dolphins: they were wriggling and moving, as if alive.

When she picked one of the dolphins up and slowly stuck it on her ear, her heart jumped.

_"Harriet is pretty and has lots of courage,"_ a little voice whispered into her ear, making her gape in total surprise. "_She's so kind… her brother is the luckiest boy in the world._"

When she stuck the other one on, another voice joined in.

"The little guys are total flirts," Hagrid mumbled, scratching his nose, "but they'll never lie."

"T-t-thank you," Harriet whispered, throat locking up; she instantly flew forward and threw her arms around him, snuggling his belly. "Thank you so much, Mr. Hagrid!"

"Now, don't you thank me," the giant muttered, glancing at Harry before taking the crystal barrette and sliding it into her hair; the hairpiece kept her hair out of her eyes and revealed her scar, but it also seemed to enhance her feminine features a bit better. "Harry can't see what I'm doin' if I'm havin' anythin' to do with yeh… even if I'm only lookin. Ya might want ter let me go before he asks why I'm not doin' anything or somethin'."

Harriet nodded frantically and touched her barrette before letting go of him. Two minutes later, they were walking back the way they'd come. Harry was now carrying a large cage which held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. Harriet was beaming since he couldn't stop stammering his thanks: he sounded like Professor Quirrell.

"Don' mention it," Hagrid said gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys."

The late-afternoon sun hung low in the sky as the three of them made their way back down Diagon Alley, walked through the brick wall, and headed back through the Leaky Cauldron, which was now empty. Neither Harry nor Harriet spoke at all as they walked down the road.

Neither of them noticed how much people were gawping at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages and the sleeping owl on Harry's lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station… it was only when Hagrid tapped the two of them on the shoulders that Harriet realized where they were.

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said, glancing at both twins. So saying, he bought the two of them hamburgers and they sat down on the plastic seats in order to eat them. Harriet kepy looking around: everything looked strange, somehow.

Her brother must have been feeling the same way, since he was acting similarly.

"You all right?" Hagrid asked, speaking to both twins even though he kept his focus on the girl's brother. "Yer very quiet…"

Harriet, at least, wasn't exactly sure that she could explain how she was feeling. She'd just had the best and most brilliant birthday of her entire life… and yet…

She chewed her hamburger, trying to find the words; as expected, Harry beat her to it.

"Everyone thinks I'm special," he finally said. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr Ollivander... but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vold—sorry… I mean, the night my parents died."

Harriet looked up when Hagrid leaned across the table; behind the wild beard and eyebrows, he wore a very kind smile.

"Don' you worry about that, Harry," he chuckled, patting his shoulder before giving the girl a soft nudge. "You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, so you'll be just fine… just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard, but yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts—I did… still do, 'smatter of fact."

So saying, Hagrid helped both Harry and Harriet onto the train that would take them back to the Dursleys, then handed the boy an envelope.

"What's that?" Harriet asked, glancing at it. "Another letter?"

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts," the giant explained. "First o' September—King's Cross… it's all on yer ticket. If there're any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl: she'll know where to find me... see yeh soon. Goodbye Harry… goodbye Harriet!"

With that, the train pulled out of the station.

Apparently, her brother wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight, so he rose in his seat and pressed his nose against the window.

However, Hagrid was already gone.


	7. Chapter 6: Platform 9 and 3 Quarters

**Chapter Six: Platform Nine and Three-Quarters**

Harry and Harriet's last month with the Dursleys wasn't fun.

At all.

Dudley was now so scared of her brother that he wouldn't stay in the same room as him, which Harriet thought was nice enough at first… but Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had started acting as though Harry didn't exist, which thoroughly angered her. They didn't shut him in his cupboard, force him to do anything, or even shout at him… in fact, they didn't speak to Harry at all. Half-terrified, half-furious, they acted as though any chair with her twin sitting in it was empty… just like everyone had always done to her. It had seriously upset the girl, since being ignored had completely depressed her brother.

In the end, Harry kept to his room, so Harriet did the same: the boy didn't even realize that she was always right there beside him. In fact, he personally believed that he had nobody but his new owl for company, which wasn't true at all: Harriet had been there the entire time and had even held his hand in an unseen attempt at comforting him. Sadly, he still didn't notice her… and secretly, she was starting to wonder if he ever would.

After they'd returned to home, Harriet had neatly folded up her new school clothes and put them in the trunk that Hagrid had given her. It had saddened the girl to do so, since she'd spent only one day wearing a skirt of any sort, but she'd been greatly comforted by the fact that she'd be able to wear one at Hogwarts.

After all, it felt rather nice to act like a normal girl.

She hadn't taken off her dolphin earrings or butterfly barrette since the moment she'd gotten them from Hagrid: the dolphins whispered things into her ears that made her feel hopeful, optimistic, and somewhat happier about her life. She'd never been called pretty by anyone, not even once, until she'd met the blonde witch in Diagon Alley… but now, her earrings said it all the time, in many different ways, and it made her feel nice inside. She loved her birthday presents.

Similarly, Harry adored his owl and had even decided to call her Hedwig, which was a name he'd found in his new schoolbook, '_A History of Magic_.'

Harriet thought she was a beautiful animal… but then again, in her eyes, _all_ owls were adorable.

During the time that the Dursley's were ignoring her brother, the twins simply stayed in Harry's room and read their new school books. Harriet was kind of surprised to discover that some of the things she'd found in them were very interesting. Every night, she lay on Harry's bed and read late into the evening hours, watching as Hedwig swooped in and out of the open window as she pleased. Her brother seemed to enjoy watching her, as well.

His smile was normally a rare thing, but lately, it seemed as though he was always grinning.

Still, it was lucky that Aunt Petunia didn't come in to vacuum anymore, because Hedwig kept bringing back dead mice. Every night before the two of them went to sleep, Harry ticked off another day on the piece of paper he had pinned to the wall. Harriet knew why, too: he was counting down the days until September first.

On the last day of August, her brother told Hedwig that he thought he'd try speaking to their aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross station, so he went down to the living room, where they were watching a quiz show on television. Harriet, after swallowing her anxiety, followed him down the stairs and watched with nervous eyes as he cleared his throat to let them know he was there. The girl winced when Dudley screamed and ran from the room.

"Er… Uncle Vernon?" Harry hesitantly asked. "Can I ask you something?"

The man grunted to show he was listening.

"Er… I need to be at King's Cross tomorrow," Harry timidly mumbled, making Harriet hold her breath. "You know, to… to go to Hogwarts."

Uncle Vernon grunted again.

"Er, Uncle Vernon," Harry finally stammered, "would it be all right if you gave me a lift?"

The man gave another grunt.

Harriet practically fell over in relief, since it probably meant yes.

"Thank you," Harry mumbled, turning away with a sigh; Harriet was just about to go back upstairs and get her things ready when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train," he muttered, shaking his head. "Magic carpets all got punctures, have they? Where is this school of yours?"

"I don't know," Harry replied, realizing as much for the first time; Harriet blinked and turned around when he pulled the ticket that Hagrid had given him out of his pocket, hooking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock."

His aunt and uncle stared.

"Platform what?" Aunt Petunia asked, furrowing her brows.

"Nine and three-quarters," Harry uncertainly repeated.

"Don't talk rubbish," Uncle Vernon retorted, making Harriet blink. "There is no platform nine and three-quarters."

"It's on my ticket," Harry pointed out, lifting it up. "That's what it says."

"Barking, howling mad, the lot of them," Uncle Vernon muttered. "You'll see… you just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross: we're going to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother."

"Why are you going to London?" Harry asked, trying to keep things friendly. Harriet winced when she saw their Uncle's glare: he looked ready to spit venom.

"Taking Dudley to hospital," the man growled. "Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."

Harriet blinked and let out a giggle before padding back upstairs; when she flopped down on her brother's bed, she told herself to fall asleep quickly. Her eyes slowly fluttered closed and she sighed, feeling completely relieved that she would be escaping from her own prison-like existence by tomorrow morning.

"I'll be seen by people," she silently mumbled, already drifting off. "I'll exist."

Not long after she fell asleep, Harry came in, flopped down beside her, and drifted off as well.

The two of them slept side by side, both eagerly waiting for the time when their individual dreams of happiness would finally come true.

However, Harriet _and _Harry both woke up at five o'clock the next morning and were much too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. The girl slowly got up and, with a thumping heart, pulled out her new school uniform and started getting dressed.

Her brother merely threw on his jeans and a sweater: apparently, he didn't want to walk into the station wearing his wizard's uniform, but Harriet figured he'd change once they were on the train. After pulling on her stockings and sliding into her glossy black dress shoes, the girl eagerly ran a brush through her hair and pinned it off to the side with the crystal butterfly barrette. Then she spun, smiling in giddy delight at the sensation of the skirt ballooning around her legs.

"I'm so happy!" she whispered, clasping her hands and jumping up and down. "I finally get to wear girly clothes from today onward! This is brilliant, just _brilliant!"_

Twirling around and humming a merry tune, the black-haired girl danced over to her trunk and checked her Hogwarts list yet again to make sure she had everything she needed; her brother was already doing the same, and since Hedwig was shut safely in her cage, she'd figured it was about time to go over things. However, once Harriet was certain she had everything she needed, she sat down with a happy grin and watched as Harry paced around the room.

Both of them were eagerly waiting for the Dursleys to get up, each in their own personal way.

Thus... only two hours later, the twins' huge, heavy trunks had been loaded into the Dursleys' car and they were ready to depart. Sadly, Harriet had been forced to drag her own things downstairs, and nobody had even noticed it when she'd stuffed the trunk right next to her brother's. Apparently, they couldn't even see her belongings... although, Hagrid _had_ warned her that his awareness spell might have caused a lingering negative side-effect.

After Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley into sitting next to her twin brother, Harriet climbed in and sat on the other side of her cousin: just after the girl got settled in, they finally got going. They arrived at King's Cross at half past ten: Uncle Vernon dumped Harry's trunk on to a trolley and wheeled it into the station for him. Harriet struggled to pull her own things out and dragged them over to a trolley with a strained expression on her face: she didn't want to admit it, but her trunk was almost too heavy for her to manage by herself. However, that didn't stop her!

She was determined to make it to school.

After she'd put her things on a nearby trolley, the girl wiped her brow and adjusted her broken glasses with a sigh. Then she followed Harry and her uncle: at first, she thought it was strangely kind of Uncle Vernon to help them like this, but then he stopped dead and faced the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

Harriet didn't like that smile.

"Well, there you are, boy," he sneered, making the girl blink in confusion. "Platform nine and platform ten: your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

Her heart sank through the floor.

He was quite right, of course: there was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, but in the middle… there was nothing at all. She slowly clasped the front of her skirt and squeezed, fingers shaking.

"Where is it?" she whispered, pulling her ticket out and looking at it in shock. "It says we're supposed to be getting on Platform nine and three quarters, right?!"

"Have a good term," Uncle Vernon chuckled with an even nastier smile. "Goodbye."

Harriet blinked back terrified tears when their Uncle left without another word; likewise, Harry turned and watched as the Dursleys drove away.

All three of them were laughing at him, which made Harriet's mouth turn rather dry.

"What on earth are we going to do?" she whispered hoarsely, clutching her brother's hand with a shaken expression. "Harry… I know you can't hear me or see me, but still, you have to think of something like you always do during times like these!"

Her brother was starting to attract a lot of funny looks because of Hedwig, which made him feel uncomfortable. Harriet knew that they'd have to ask someone, but when her twin stopped a passing guard, she was stunned to discover that nobody had ever heard of Hogwarts. Harry obviously didn't dare to mention platform nine and three-quarters, but when Harry couldn't even tell the guard what part of the country their school was in he started to get annoyed. He was soon looking at Harry as though he was being stupid on purpose; Harriet stood there and watched with clasped hands, green eyes desperate.

She hated feeling helpless, but there was nothing else she could do.

However, when her brother finally asked for the train that left at eleven o'clock, the guard said there wasn't one… and in the end, the man strode away, muttering under his breath about time-wasters. Harriet's hands dropped and she bit her lip: her brother was obviously trying not to panic.

The girl finally looked at the time and winced.

According to the large clock that had been set over the arrivals board, she and Harry had only ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts… and sadly, neither one of them had any idea how to do it: the twins were stranded in the middle of a train station with trunks they could hardly lift, pockets full of wizard money, and a large owl.

"Harry, what are we going to do?" Harriet whined, sinking down into a squat and clutching her head with both hands. "How are we supposed to get onto the train?!"

After a moment of silent panic, the girl took a deep breath and thought back a bit; then she realized that Hagrid must have forgotten to tell them something you had to do in order to get onto the train, like tapping the third brick on the left the way he'd gotten into Diagon Alley. She briefly wondered if she should get out her wand and start tapping the ticket box between platforms nine and ten, but a large group of people passed her brother just as she was considering it.

He twitched without warning and whirled around.

"Muggles," he whispered, catching his sister's attention. "She just said muggles!"

Harriet instantly swung around and followed his gaze: the 'she' Harry had mentioned was actually a plump auburn-haired woman who was currently talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk… and they had an owl. Harry instantly pushed his trolley after them with Harriet hot on his tail, heart hammering. When the family of redheads stopped, so did the Potter twins, just near enough to hear what they were saying to each other.

"Now, what's the platform number?" the boys' mother inquired. "You remember, right?"

"Platform nine and three-quarters!" a small girl, also red-headed, eagerly piped; she was holding the woman's hand. "Mummy, can't I go with Ronnie...?"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet," the woman gently chided; then she glanced at what looked like the oldest boy. "All right, Percy, you go first."

When the tallest youth marched towards platforms nine and ten, Harriet hurried up and stood beside her brother with a breathless expression: both of them watched the scene in front of them with riveted eyes. However, just as the boy reached the divide between the two Platforms, a large crowd of tourists swarmed in front of him. By the time the last rucksack had cleared away, the redhead had vanished.

"George, you're next," the plump woman said, waving at another boy. "Come along."

"I'm not George," the boy exclaimed, folding his lanky arms; Harriet's eyes widened and she twitched in surprise when she realized that there was another boy standing right beside him with the same exact face: the two of them were identical. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm Fred?"

"Sorry, Fred, dear," the woman sighed, rolling her eyes. "Go on…"

"Only joking, I am George," the boy chuckled, giving her a grin. "Bye, Mum!"

Then, with a coy salute, off he went: his twin called after him to hurry up, but he must have done so… because only a second later, he'd completely vanished behind a small group of tourists. Harriet blinked and shook her head, wondering how he'd done it and where he'd gone: she hadn't been able to see anything at all. However, she got her answer when the third brother started walking briskly towards the barrier: she blinked since he was already almost there.

Then… quite suddenly, he sank through the brick wall and vanished from sight.

"Bloody hell!" the pale girl squeaked, eyes popping open wide. "How… how did he…?!"

There was nothing else for it: her brother was already pushing his trolley over, so she hastily did the same and kept pace with him. She was still reeling over what she'd just seen, but she figured now would be a good time as any to start asking questions.

"Excuse me!" Harry called, waving at the plump woman. "Excuse me, Ma'am!"

"Oh, hullo, dears," she cheerfully exclaimed, beaming at Harry before shooting his sister an identical smile; the girl instantly straightened up in surprise, since the woman could apparently see her, just like Hagrid. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

So saying, she pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was small, extremely mousy, had large eyes, and his face was positively covered with freckles; on top of that, he had small hands, big feet, and a very small nose. The redheaded boy glanced at his mother in confusion when he noticed the plural she'd used to address Harry, but aside from that, he didn't seem to be aware of Harriet.

"Yes," Harry explained with a nod. "The thing is… I don't know how to—"

"How to get on to the platform?" she kindly finished. "Is that what you meant to say?"

"Yes," Harriet and Harry stated at the same time, giving a simultaneous nod.

"Just like Fred and George…" the woman chuckled. "Always doing everything at the same time. Not to worry, dears: all you have to do is walk straight at the wall between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared that you'll crash into it: that's very important, all right? Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous… go on, kids: go now before Ron."

"Er, okay," Harry stammered, pushing his trolley around and staring at the barrier; he didn't even notice the plural on her words."If you say so, that's what I'll do."

Harriet followed him with her eyes before glancing at the woman with uncertainty.

"Are you sure he won't hurt himself?" she nervously asked. "He won't crash, right?"

"Not at all," the woman chuckled. "Don't worry."

Still, when Harry started to walk towards it, Harriet clutched the bars on her trolley with a tense expression on her face: people jostled her twin on their way to platforms nine and ten, so he walked more quickly. He was going to smash right into that brick wall… she watched as he leaned forward on his trolley and broke into a heavy run. The barrier was coming nearer and nearer… he wouldn't be able to stop. Harriet covered her eyes and waited for the crash… but it didn't come.

When she opened her eyes, Harry had vanished: his sister twitched and gasped in surprise.

"He's really gone!" she squeaked, mouth falling open. "He really did it!"

"Of course he did, dear," the woman exclaimed, startling her; Harriet's green eyes flashed and she whipped around when the redhead regarded her with a smile. "That's how it's always been, you know: magic helps us conceal everything we need."

"Can you really see me?" Harriet asked in a small voice; the woman blinked when she let go of the trolley, not even realizing that her own son and daughter were staring at her as though she'd grown another head. "Ma'am, can you really see me?"

"Of course I can, dear," the redheaded woman stated slowly, blinking in a somewhat baffled and perplexed manner. "What kind of a question is that? Why _wouldn't_ I be able to see you?"

"Mummy, who are you talking to?" Ginny asked, tugging on her mother's sleeve and glancing around in confusion. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, Mum," Ron slowly added, staring at her with a worried expression. "You look rather flushed."

"What?" the woman asked, glancing at them in surprise before looking at Harriet and gesturing with a firm expression. "Now, dears, I know you're rather shy around unfamiliar people, but wouldn't you say you're being a little mean to that girl?"

"What girl?" Ginny asked, blinking in confusion before looking around; her eyes drifted right through Harriet and swept through the crowd. "I don't see a girl, Mummy… where are you looking?"

"She's right there!" the woman exclaimed, pointing at Harriet. "Don't act like you can't see here, dears: that's very, very rude!"

"Mum," the boy stated firmly, frowning in total bewilderment. "Mum, really… there are no girls here aside from Ginny. Who exactly are you talking about?"

"Ronald and Ginny Weasely!" the woman exclaimed, mouth dropping open; she instantly turned away from Harriet, who stepped back, and planted her hands on her hips with a firm expression. "How can you say something so rude?! Apologize, right now! She's standing right in front of you! She can hear _every_ _word _you're saying!"

Both of her children turned and stared blankly at the spot Harriet was standing in.

"I think Mummy's gone mad," Ginny whispered to her brother. "What do you think?"

"Nah, maybe she's just… I dunno, batty," Ron replied just as quietly, then lifted his head and nodded in a mock-polite fashion. "Sorry about that, um… miss. Okay?"

Harriet winced when the woman gave her son the stink-eye, but just as she waved her arm to wave a scolding finger, Harriet darted forward; the woman stopped when the dark-haired child clutched her arm and held it in place.

However, it took her a moment to speak.

"It's not their fault…" Harriet mumbled sadly, shaking her head. "They really can't see me, Ma'am… lots of people can't, actually, which is why I asked you if you could in the first place. Right now, I'm… I'm kind of under… a curse of sorts."

"A… a curse?" the redhead whispered in surprise. "What on earth…?"

"Don't ask me why... until recently, I didn't even know I _was_ cursed," Harriet quickly explained, giving the woman an owlish expression. "It's just… because of the curse, I don't exactly exist to most people, and lots of others have totally forgotten about me… even my own brother. The fact that _you_ can see me is most likely a fluke: even if you try to tell anyone that I'm here, they'll completely forget about what you said only a few minutes later. Other people who are less sensitive to my presence won't even realize that you're talking to me. They won't hear it if you say something about me. They won't even realize _you're moving_ if you make eye-contact with my body. To put it simply, I really just don't exist to some people, and so far, I haven't found any major loopholes."

"W-what?" the woman whispered, eyes widening in shock. "I don't understand!"

"Mum, why are you staring off into space?" Ginny suddenly asked, making the woman twitch in surprise; the little girl shook her arm with a worried expression, completely oblivious of her mother's gaze. To them, it looked as though she were still staring straight ahead at the spot that Harriet had been in. "Are you feeling peaky? Do you want to sit down for a few moments?"

"Ginny, I've got to get going or I'll miss the train," Ron sighed, shaking his head before running through the barrier. "Take care of Mum for me! I love you!"

Harriet blinked when he disappeared through the bricks.

"He's right… you should get going, too, dear," the woman sighed, shaking her head in amazement and patting Harriet's cheek. "You don't want to be late."

"Thank you…" Harriet murmured, giving her a weak smile before letting go of her arm; with that, the black-haired girl grabbed her trolley and shoved off, running straight at the barrier with a tense expression. The bricks loomed closer and closer… but then she went rushing through them and her hair was blasted off her forehead in a wave of wind. When she skidded to a halt, a scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, 11 o'clock: Harriet twitched and looked behind her, blinking rapidly when she saw a wrought-iron archway where the bricks had been.

The words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters had been painted on it.

"I did it," Harriet whispered, eyes widening behind her glasses. "Brilliant!"

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to each other in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks. The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the windows to talk to their families, others fighting over seats. Harry was nowhere in sight, and that made the girl a bit uncomfortable.

Harriet tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and pushed her trolley down the platform in search of an empty car.

"Gran, I've lost my toad again," a round-faced boy sighed as she passed.

"Oh, Neville," she heard the old woman sigh. "Take better care of Trevor, okay?"

Nearby, a boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee," someone called, "go on!"

The crowd watched as the boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms.

The people around him shrieked and yelled when something inside poked out a long, hairy leg. Harriet silently dragged her things onto the train and pressed on through the crowd, moving down the aisles and peering into the compartments in search of her brother. By the time the train was ready to depart, she still hadn't found him among any of the jam-packed box cars: everything was crowded and she had a hard time seeing, so it was possible that she'd missed him.

However, when she found an empty compartment near the end of the train, she spotted Harry coming inside from the opposite end. He'd already put Hedwig inside the locomotive, but now he was attempting to shove and heave his trunk inside the train door. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end, and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot: Harriet was just about to go help him when she was beaten to it.

"Want a hand?" someone asked. "You look like you're having some trouble."

Harriet blinked when she realized that it was one of the red-haired twins that she and her brother had followed through the wall.

"Yes, please," Harry panted. "It's much too heavy for me."

"Oy, Fred!" the boy called. "C'mere and help!"

With the twins' help, Harry's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment. Harriet dragged her own things off the trolley and heaved them into her own empty train compartment, shoulders shaking with the strain of it. Then she poked her head outside the window and kept her eyes fixed on her twin.

"Thanks," Harry wheezed, pushing his sweaty hair out of his jade green eyes.

"What's that?" one of the twins suddenly asked, pointing at Harry's lightning scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you—?"

"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?"

"What?" Harry asked, blinking in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Harry Potter," the twins chorused.

"Oh, him," Harry mumbled, blinking a few times. "I mean, yes… er, I am."

Harriet sighed when the two boys gawped at him since Harry himself turned red; then a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George?" the woman from earlier called. "Are you there?"

"Coming, Mum," they called, and with a last look at Harry, the twins hopped off the train. Harriet got up and poked her bead out into the corridor, watching as her brother made his way down the aisle to the car right across from her own. Then he sat down next to the window where, half-hidden, he could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.

"Ron," she sighed, "you've got something on your nose."

The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing.

"Mum!" he complained, wriggling free of her hands. "Get off!"

"Aaah," one of the twins drawled, "has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?"

"Shut up," Ron grumbled.

"Where's Percy?" their mother asked, looking around. "Have you seen him?"

"He's coming now," George commented, pointing just as the oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes; Harriet blinked when she saw a shiny red and gold badge with the letter P resting on his chest.

"Can't stay long, Mother," he sighed. "I'm up front… the Prefects have got two compartments to themselves –"

"Oh, are you a Prefect, Percy?' Fred asked, speaking to their brother with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," George muttered. "Once –"

"Or twice—"

"A minute—"

"All summer—"

"Oh, shut up," Percy the Prefect snapped. "You two are so irritating."

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" one of the twins asked.

"Because he's a Prefect," their mother fondly explained. "All right, dears… well, have a good term—send me an owl when you get there."

She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Harriet sighed and set her chin on the window, watching the woman's actions with a wistful expression. She'd never say it out loud, but she was actually kind of jealous of the redheaded children.

They had such a wonderful mother…

Just as she was thinking this, the woman turned to look at the twins.

"Now, you two," she stated sternly, giving them a firm expression. "This year, you'd better behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've… you've blown up a toilet, or—"

"Blown up a toilet?" Fred snorted, quirking an eyebrow. "We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea, though," George brightly added. "Thanks, Mum."

"That's not funny," she exclaimed, waving her arms despite her grin. "Look after Ron."

"Don't worry," the twins simultaneously exclaimed. "Ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up," the mousy redhead snapped; he was probably the smallest of the lot, but his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.

"Mum, guess what?" Fred suddenly asked. "Guess who we just met on the train?"

Harriet's eyes widened and she leaned back so they couldn't see her looking.

"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station?" George asked, grinning in a mischievous manner. "Know who he is?"

"Yes, I know who you're talking about," the woman murmured. "Who is he?"

"Harry Potter!" the twins exclaimed at the same time; the woman's eyes instantly went blank with recognition.

"Harry Potter?" she whispered, staring off into space; her face slowly drained of color and she touched her cheek. "Oh, dear… then that girl I saw... was…?"

Harriet lifted her head and peered at the family when she heard the little girl's voice.

"Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see him?" she whined. "Mum, oh, please..."

"You've already seen him, Ginny," the woman exclaimed. "The poor boy isn't some-thing you goggle at in a zoo! Is he really, Fred? How do you know it's him?"

"We saw his scar and asked him," the twins chorused. "It's really there: it looks like a bolt of lightning."

"Poor dears… no wonder they were alone," the woman muttered. "It would definitely explain why nobody could see that girl, but still… I did wonder. Both of them were ever so polite when they asked how to get on the platform."

"Never mind that," George whispered, eyes glinting with a fair amount of caution, "do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Their mother suddenly became very stern.

"I forbid you to ask, George… don't you dare," the woman scolded darkly. "As though they need reminding of that on their first day at school…"

"All right," George sighed, lifting his hands. "Keep your hair on."

"They?" Fred asked, frowning in confusion. "Mum? Why do you keep saying that? You're talking as though there's more than one Harry Potter."

A whistle sounded, cutting off the woman's chance to respond.

"Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered on to the train.

They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them goodbye and their younger sister began to cry.

"Don't, Ginny," Fred called, waving at his kid sister. "We'll send you loads of owls."

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat!" the other twin called, waving at her as well. "Don't cry, okay?"

"George!" the woman cried.

"Only joking, Mum!" the boy laughed.

Feeling as though she'd seen enough, Harriet got up and stepped into the hall, making her way towards the bathroom so she could check her hair. Now that she was aware that at least some people would be able to see her, she wanted to make sure she looked at least somewhat presentable. However, the girl let out a startled squeak when the floor unexpectedly jolted beneath her shoes, jerking her off balance and sending her flying forward: she landed hard on the floor of the train, glasses skidding off her nose. After a moment, she slowly crawled back up to all fours, but for some reason, she wasn't able to find her glasses.

"Oh, no…" Harriet whined, patting around for them. "Don't tell me I lost them!"

"Oh, you mean these?" a familiar voice asked; Harriet blinked and squinted when she saw a blurry shape holding her spectacles. "Yikes… these glasses are in very bad shape! Why haven't you gotten any new ones? Oh, um… my name's Neville Longbottom, by the way."

"Um… thank you for finding my glasses," Harriet weakly peeped, holding out her hands with a squinting expression; she sighed in relief when he put them in her hands, and then she carefully slid them back onto her face. "Thank you… I was so worried."

"Oh… er, you're welcome," the round-faced boy who'd lost his toad chuckled, making her blink; he had the brightest dark brown eyes she'd ever seen. "Um… by the way? If you see a toad anywhere around here, please catch him and come find me."

"I'll do that," Harriet sighed, nodding when he smiled and headed out of sight.

She slowly got back to her feet and dusted herself off before heading down the aisle and stepping into the girl's lavatory. She instantly looked at herself in the mirror and sighed when she saw that her hair had slide free of the butterfly barrette.

After a moment, she slid her hair to the side and looked at her scar.

Her thin brows furrowed: she didn't like it.

In fact, after she'd come home and seen herself in the Dursley's bathroom mirror, she had re-parted her hairline so the barrette wouldn't be revealing the side of her head that the lightning scar was on. After pulling out a comb, she ran it through her locks and smoothed them out before touching the close-cropped tendrils.

"I should probably start growing my hair out," she murmured, looking at herself in the mirror with a solemn expression. "I almost look like a boy because of it."

It was true: she and her brother practically had the same face, so her short hair only added to that.

The girl stumbled and clutched the sink when the train began to move, then left the bathroom and headed back to her car. When she passed the redheaded boys and realized that they were sitting in different cars, she glanced past them and saw their mother waving; their sister, half laughing, half crying, was running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed; then she fell back and waved. Harriet's face fell when she watched the girl and her mother disappear; then the train rounded the corner and houses started flashing past the window. Harriet felt a great leap of excitement burning in her breast and pressed a hand to her heart.

She didn't know what she was going to—but it had to be better than what she was leaving behind.

That much... yes, that much she was sure of.


	8. Chapter 7: Enter Hermione

**Chapter Seven: Enter Hermione**

Shockingly enough, Harriet and Harry seemed to have similar seating preferences.

The girl's brother had taken the only other empty car under the premise that the one she was sitting in was haunted. However, the girl didn't believe in ghosts, so she really had no issue sitting in the car that everyone was avoiding: after all, she could have been considered a ghost of sorts herself. Still, she hadn't even been sitting down for three minutes when the door to her brother's compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy walked in.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full…"

"Go ahead," Harry kindly proffered, gesturing at the seat. "I don't mind."

Harriet tiredly watched them until they shut the door, then turned her head again and stared at the window with a dazed expression. The sleepiness had hit the girl not long after the train had started running, and now she simply felt drained. She heard people talking across the aisle but she took no notice of them: her mind was sort of drifting in its own little world. However, the girl turned her head again when another knock came from the door of her brother's compartment.

The round-faced boy she'd seen earlier was standing in front of the sliding door with an unhappy expression on his face.

"Sorry, but have you seen a toad at all?" he asked, scratching his head. "I've really lost him this time! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," Harry soothed, speaking in a gentle tone. "Don't worry too much."

"Yes," Neville miserably sighed. "Well, if you see him... please come find me."

Harriet followed his path with her eyes when he pattered down the corridor again. The girl glanced back out the window and closed her eyes, but just as she was dozing off, the sound of the compartment door sliding open again made her snap to awareness. Neville was back, but this time he had a girl with him: she was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad?" she asked. "Neville's lost one."

She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"We've already told him," Ron sighed. "We haven't seen it,"

"Oh, are you doing magic?" the girl asked, sitting down and sliding the door shut; Neville instantly hurried back down the hall, abandoned as he'd been. Harriet took the brief moment of silence to ponder why she was feeling so tired… but when the answer hit her, she was actually kind of surprised by how simple it was.

"I feel sad," Harriet murmured simply, shaking her head in surprise. "That's why I'm tired… I always get tired when I'm feeling sad."

"_Sing to the sea and let the sadness out, like the mermaids of old,_" one of her earrings whispered, making her blink in surprise; it was the first time she'd ever heard them say something aside from pure flattery. "_Harriet is much too kind to stay sad…_"

"Sing?" the girl asked, not even realizing that the girl with frizzy brown hair had just left her brother's compartment and was currently staring at her through the open door with furrowed brows. "More importantly, do mermaids really exist?"

"_Yes, all across the oceans and the seas,_" her other earring giggled. "_They whisper melodies of the heart and capture everyone with their voices. Harriet must have a pretty voice, too… so if the sadness is tiring, sing it out across the green and brown oceans of Land._"

"That's so embarrassing, though," Harriet mumbled, covering her face as a blush spread across her cheeks. "I can't sing! I've never even done it before!"

"Pardon me," a haughty voice suddenly interrupted, making Harriet glance up; she quickly found herself staring straight into the eyes of a petite brunette with a very calculating look about her, "but who are you talking to? The cart is _empty_."

"Oh, u-um," Harriet stammered, blinking rapidly in surprise. "My earrings?"

"Your earrings," the girl scoffed, furrowing her brows in suspicion. "Do you really expect me to believe something so ridiculous? And what is _with_ all of the broken glasses today? Here, let me help you with those: it's not _too_ much trouble."

"Eh?" the black-haired girl asked, eyes widening when the brunette pulled out her wand and fluffed her hair back. "What are you doing?"

"Fixing your glasses," the girl curtly retorted, brown eyes sharpening; then she gave her wand a graceful little flick and chanted, "_Oculus repairo_!"

Harriet squeaked when her glasses jumped on her nose: the cellotape on the bridge flew off, the earpieces fixed themselves, and the scratched lenses became clearer than they'd been when Harry had first gotten them. However, when she pulled them off her face, the brunette blinked in total surprise and leaned forward.

"Whoa! You... you look exactly like Harry Potter!" she exclaimed, brown eyes widening in surprise. "Then that means, you must be Harriet Potter, the girl who totally ceased to exist! I know all about you, of course—I got a few extra books for background reading! You're just as famous as your brother, you know!"

"I-I am?" Harriet whispered, blinking rapidly when the girl sat down. "So, does that mean there are lots of people who can see me? I mean, if you know all about me, surely you can at least give me a warning on what to expect at Hogwarts, right?"

"Of course," the girl sniffed, proudly tossing her hair. "My name is Hermione Granger: it's a pleasure to finally meet you! I've been wondering all this time if I'd be able to see you, but I guess that in itself is a conundrum since I apparently wasn't affected by the widespread curse that swept throughout the world."

"The curse that swept throughout the _world?"_ the smaller girl asked, blinking in baffled confusion. "What do you mean? Didn't it only affect _me?"_

"You don't know?" Hermione asked, looking rather surprised; then her eyebrows furrowed and she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Well, that's not surprising since not many people can see you, right? Okay, look... it's believed that the curse that was placed on you somehow altered _reality_ as we know it, but all of the witches and wizards who were left unaffected by the curse can still see what was written about you in the history books. All of the info is still there, and so are you... it's just that most people cannot or will not be able to see it. Your personal existence simply is not a consistent thing, you know?"

"Really?" Harriet asked, giving her a baffled stare. "I'm... in history books?"

"Goodness, didn't you know?" the brunette asked, eyes widening in surprise. "I'd have found out everything if it was me! Anyway, I'm one of those rare witches who can still see you _and_ remember you: my parents didn't react at all when I talked about you, and nobody even seemed to know who you were even though you're in _Modern Magical History_, _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts,_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_. All of those are famous books, too!"

"Wow," Harriet whispered, green eyes widening in surprise. "Um, Hermione, can I ask you something? Is it possible to break the curse on me?"

"That much I don't exactly know," the girl pensively explained. "I'm only eleven years old, after all: if Dumbledore himself couldn't break it, I doubt _I'd_ be able to even if I tried a thousand times. On another note… do you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around and I hope I'm in Gryffindor since it sounds the best by far. I hear Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad... I already told this to your brother and his friend, Ron."

"I don't know much about it, honestly," Harriet shyly mumbled, shaking her head with a somber expression in her eyes. "Still, I'm happy since at least I know _one_ person will be able to see me. I feel a lot better about it now that I know you and Neville are aware of my existence…"

"So," Hermione tentatively began, looking a bit uncomfortable, "who exactly were you talking to before I stepped in? You said something about mermaids."

"My earrings," Harriet murmured, pulling one of the dolphins off her ear and holding it out for the brunette to take; when she cautiously picked it up and pressed it against her own ear, her eyes widened and she blinked a few times. "They were a birthday gift from someone who made me really, really happy."

"Curious," Hermione muttered, pulling the earring away with an amazed expression. "I wonder what kind of charm he used to make them come to life?"

"I'm guessing you must know loads of magic already," the black-haired girl gushed, leaning forward with suddenly-gleaming green eyes. "You did fix my glasses, after all! It was brilliant, honestly: I've never seen something so amazing before!"

"Oh, it was nothing, really," the girl sniffed. "I've memorized all of my school books by heart since I'm really, really nervous about attending Hogwarts: after all, my parents are Muggles, so it kind of came as a shock when I got my letter… actually, I heard you went to live with Muggles, too. What were they like?"

"Horrible!" Harriet instantly exclaimed, then shivered and sighed a little. "Well… not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though… in fact, until recently, I've never had anything of my own! Nothing, not a skirt, a dress, or even… er, girl's undies. After all, since nobody could see me, it was really… difficult."

Since the brunette seemed stunned and thoroughly intrigued by her statements, Harriet told her all about having to wear Dudley's old clothes, adopting Harry's things, and never getting proper birthday presents, meals, or even proper hygiene products.

The last part seemed to shock the brunette quite a bit.

"They sound totally spoiled and barbaric!" Hermione exclaimed, eyes widening when Harriet explained how Dudley would break things and then throw a tantrum if he didn't get a replacement. "How on earth did you live that long without help? I'm rather amazed that you were able to do everything on your own!"

"Well, what choice did I have?" the green-eyed girl asked, blinking in surprise when the brunette stared. "I couldn't complain since nobody could see me... I did what I had to in order to survive. Until Hagrid told us about it, Harry and I didn't know anything about magic, or even about our parents and You-know-who."

"Really?" Hermione asked, eyes widening in shock. "You really didn't know?"

"No, I didn't," Harriet sighed, giving her a little shrug; then she decided to voice something that had been worrying her. "I've got loads to learn... and compared to you, I feel like I don't know anything at all. I'll bet… I'll bet I'll be the dumbest in class."

"You won't be!" the brunette snapped, tilting her nose up and folding her arms with a haughty expression. "There's loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough. Take me for example: if I can do it, you definitely can, so cheer up and don't think about it too much! Rule number one of studying!"

While the two girls had been talking, the train had carried them out of London: now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep.

Harriet and Hermione were quiet for a time, both of them watching the fields and lanes flick past.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" she asked, making Harriet's heart leap. "Anything at all?"

_She can see me, too, _she silently cheered._ That makes three, no, four people so far!_

The girl instantly leapt to her feet and went out into the corridor. She'd never had any money for sweets with the Dursleys, so now that she had pockets rattling with gold and silver, the girl was ready to buy as many candy bars as she could carry. However, the woman didn't have normal candy: what she did have were Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Liquorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harriet had never seen in her entire life. Not wanting to miss anything, she got some of everything.

Then she paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.

Hermione quirked an eyebrow when the tiny girl happily brought it all back into the compartment and tipped it on to an empty seat.

She was flushed with giddy delight.

"Hungry, are you?" the brunette sniffed, looking a bit disgruntled. "That's a lot of sweets."

"I'm starving!" Harriet exclaimed, taking a bite out of a pumpkin pasty; her eyes instantly bugged out of her head and she squeaked in delight. "Eep! It's _yummy_!"

"And fattening," Hermione dryly pointed out. "It's nothing but sugar."

"But it's so yummy that it _has_ to be worth it somewhere," Harriet happily crooned, taking another bite and closing her eyes as she savored it. "Brilliant! I've never had sweets before now, so this is wicked! Oh, you can have a pasty if you want, too!"

"I can?" the girl asked, looking mildly surprised. "You mean some of this is for me?"

"Of course!" Harriet exclaimed, giving her an eager nod. "That is, if you want!"

"Well, if you insist," Hermione murmured, giving a little shrug. "Thank you."

Harriet was a girl who'd never had anything to share before, or even anyone to share things _with_ since nobody had ever been able to see her. It was a wonderful feeling, sitting there with Hermione and eating through all her pasties and cakes together.

It was even better knowing the brunette could see her AND seemed to like her.

"Huh? What are these?" Harriet asked, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs and eyeing it with a fair amount of suspicion. "They're not really frogs, are they?"

"'No, of course not," Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes. "They're made of chocolate, but they've been enchanted so they move and act like real frogs. Although, the spell wears off after about three minutes, and once that happens they stop moving completely."

"Wow," Harriet whispered, turning the package over. "Eh? Look, there's a face on it!"

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know," Hermione exclaimed, looking rather excited to be explaining her knowledge to someone who enjoyed listening to it. "Chocolate Frogs have cards inside them! They're collectables, and supposedly there are lots of Famous Witches and Wizards to get a hold of."

Harriet silently unwrapped her Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face: he wore half-moon glasses, had a long crooked nose and flowing silver hair, beard and moustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"So this is Dumbledore?" the black-haired girl asked, holding it up. "I pictured him as looking a bit different."

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" Hermione exclaimed, mouth falling open in shock. "He's the most famous wizard of the modern age!"

So saying, the brunette grabbed her card and gently pulled it free of Harriet's hands; then she turned it around and put it back in her small fingers.

The smaller girl narrowed her eyes and began to read what was on the back of it out loud.

"_'Albus Dumbledore,'_" she murmured, blinking a bit behind her glasses, "_'currently Headmaster of Hogwarts. Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Professor Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.'_"

"There you have it," the brunette sighed, flapping a dismissive hand. "See?"

When Harriet turned the card back over, she saw, to her astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared from its spot.

"Eh?!" she gasped, eyes widening in alarm. "H-H-Hermione, look! He's gone!"

"He'll be back," the girl murmured, flipping open one of her books with a dismissive air. "He probably went to chat with another nearby picture. They often do that."

"Really?" Harriet asked, blinking rapidly in confusion. "Wow..."

True to her word, Dumbledore soon sidled back into the picture on her card and gave her a small smile.

Hermione was more interested in reading her schoolbooks than looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards, but Harriet couldn't keep her eyes off them and eagerly started opening the cartons. Soon she had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but Hengist of Woodcraft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. The girl finally tore her eyes away from the druidess Cliodna, who was scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans.

"Oh, um… you want to be careful with those," Hermione warned, flicking her eyes up with an expression of distaste. "When they say every flavor, they _mean_ every flavor… you can get the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. I stopped eating them after I got a bean that tasted oddly like vomit. It was thoroughly disgusting, and I vowed never to try them again after that."

"Ew," Harriet muttered, shuddering in disgust before she eyed the beans. "Really?"

"Yep," the brunette confirmed, cautiously picking up a green bean and biting into a corner; her nose instantly wrinkled and she coughed, shaking her head in thorough disgust. "Ugh, yuck… see what I mean? That one was flavored like onion sprouts."

The two girls had a good time eating the Every-Flavour Beans. Harriet got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, roast beef, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny grey one Hermione wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper.

The countryside flying past the window was becoming wilder.

The neat fields had gone, and now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

"So, what were you talking about with your earrings?" Hermione finally asked, glancing up at her with undeniable curiosity. "I heard something about mermaids, but then you said something about being sad and embarrassed."

"Oh, that?" Harriet sighed, eyes saddening in an instant. "I made the mistake of muttering that I was feeling sad, so my earrings told me to sing my heart to the ocean in order to let the sadness out. It's not like I could really do it, right? I've never really sang anything before, aside from humming every now and then."

"Well, why not?" Hermione asked, cocking her head. "If it were me, I would be singing all the time since most people wouldn't even notice the mistakes I'd always be making, you know? Then again… why are you sad? After all, we're going to Hogwarts! That should be enough to make anybody happy!"

"I'm anxious, nervous, and worried on top of being sad," the smaller girl muttered, glancing out the window with a sigh. "Not many people can see me, after all, and that includes my own brother… so, in reality, I'm more scared that only two or three people will really be aware that I exist. Not being seen... it's very lonely."

"I can name eleven who _will_ be able to see you," the brunette offered, closing her book with a hopeful expression. "Albus Dumbledore for one, as well as Professor McGonagall and several of the other teachers… perhaps even some of the students, too! That set aside, why don't you try singing? I'm rather curious, you know."

"Eh?" Harriet squeaked, eyes widening in horror. "I don't know any songs, though!"

"Well, then make something up!" the taller girl sighed, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, it can't be much worse than the spell your brother's friend came up with: he tried to turn his pet rat yellow, but nothing happened."

"How should I make one up?" Harriet asked, completely at a loss. "I don't understand."

"Just sing whatever pops into your head, even if it doesn't make sense!" Hermione explained, then proceeded to demonstrate by letting out a tone-deaf note. "'_Magical heart strings! Unicorn Hair! All my studying's been so fair! Quick little wand waves! Potions so rare! I hope my tests don't give me a scare!' _See? It's easy!_"_

Harriet blinked and giggled a little in amusement, then decided to humor the girl and sank deep into thought. She closed her eyes and started thinking about how Harry had forgotten her, how she'd been helpless to do anything, how her presence had faded into nothing but a shadow of its former self…

And just like that, a melancholy tune popped into her head.

"_Dreams of Grey..._" Harriet lightly trilled, making Hermione grin; however, the smile faded when the girl's green eyes opened, since they were misty. "_Dreams of Grey... light and shadow... faaaaaaaade.__ Darkness comes when the Sunlight disappears… opposition rends our Earth in two. __Evil and Good must together make decisions… so why are my days ruled by everlasting grey?_"

"This is what popped into your head?" Hermione asked, frowning with a jealous expression. "Are you certain you've never sang before? You're quite good at it."

Harriet merely shook her head and continued the song that was forming inside her.

"_I'll dream… I'll dream… I'll dream, I'll fly far away…_" the girl softly sang, staring off into space and feeling self-conscious. "_I'll leave this shadowed place, where the world is grey… where skies are cold and dark; where the clouds all cry. So go... now go… just go, I'm used to being alone. The darkness frightens me; in the light my mask fades. My tears are veiled, caught in between: my tears are grey._"

Hermione was staring at her by this point.

"_I dream… I dream… and in my dreams, I see your face._" Harriet trilled, closing her eyes. "_You lift your hands to me and wait with open arms. You smile and you tell me, 'Don't be sad.' You walk… you walk… you walk, and I've faded away. All these tears inside me fall out of my dreams... onto my pillow... and into the sky so grey._"

With that, she stopped singing since nothing else came to mind.

"If that was your first time singing, you should join the Hogwarts choir," Hermione stated seriously. "Not many witches and wizards have enough talent with their voice to attend the music courses, but I think you could it... trust me: you really might just be able to make it."

"You think so?" Harriet asked, opening her eyes again. "Did I do okay?"

"You could say that," Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes yet again. "Honestly, I wish I could sing that well, but I guess we all have our faults."

Around that moment, an outcry erupted just across the hall and both girls froze when they heard a scream of pain.

Thudding footsteps ensued not long after, which made Hermione get to her feet and run across the corridor to her brother's car.

"What's going on?" Harriet asked, getting up as well and poking her head into her brother's cart; she blinked at the sweets that were lying all over the floor, then glanced at Ron, who was picking up his rat by its tail. "Did something happen?"

"What has been going on?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brows.

"I think he's been knocked out," Ron muttered, looking closer at his rat. "No way… I don't believe it! He's gone back to sleep!"

"Really?" Harry asked, looking mildly surprised. "He's asleep already?"

"Yeah," Ron confirmed, then looked up suspiciously. "Anyway, you've met Malfoy before?"

"We met in Diagon Alley," Harry explained, making Harriet blink in surprise. "He was getting his robes fitted."

"I've heard of his family," Ron said darkly, shaking his head in dismay. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side."

"I think I remember the boy they're talking about," Harriet whispered, catching Hermione's attention. "He was really pale and had extremely light blonde hair."

"Excuse me?" Ron suddenly asked, looking at the brunette. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on," Hermione deadpanned, making Harriet giggle a little. "From what I've seen of the landmarks, we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," Ron retorted, scowling at her. "Would you mind leaving while we change?"

"All right… I only came in here because people outside were behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," Hermione said in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way. Did you know? Just there…"

Ron glared at her when she tapped her own nose and left, pulling Harriet with her. Once the two girls were in their own car, Hermione flipped her book open and Harriet shrugged on one of her new robes over her school uniform. After that, she sat down and peered out of the window: it was getting dark, but she could still see mountains and forests under a deep-purple sky. The train did in fact seem to be slowing down, and not long after a voice echoed through the train.

"_We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time,_" the conductor called. "_Please leave your luggage on the train: it will be taken to the school separately._"

Harriet's stomach lurched with anxiety and Hermione, she saw, looked rather pale despite her confident demeanor.

Both girls crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor; Harriet, against her better judgment and without even realizing what she was doing, slid her hand into Hermione's out of force of habit since she felt nervous. The girl instantly stared at her, but shrugged it off after taking note of her expression: the black-haired child looked as though she were going to be sick.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped.

People pushed their way towards the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform; Harriet shivered in the cold night air, but then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students and she heard a familiar booming voice echoing out of the darkness.

"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!" he called, then glanced at the Potter twins, who really weren't that far away from each other. "All right there, Potters?"

"Just peachy!" Harriet croaked, waving at him with a smile. "I made a new friend!"

"Good fer yeh!" he exclaimed, taking note of Hermione's pleasantly startled expression. "C'mon, follow me—any more firs'-years? Mind yer step, now! Firs'-years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark either side of them that Harriet personally thought there must be thick trees all around. Nobody spoke much, but Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

"I'm nervous," Hermione whispered, making Harriet nod in agreement. However, gasps erupted all around when they went around the bend and Harriet felt her breath being ripped out of her lungs in shock: the narrow path had opened onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, with its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

It was a gorgeous sight.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron were followed into their boat by Neville, Harriet, and Hermione… since nobody could see her, anyway. "Everyone in? Right then—FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Wow," Harriet whispered, mouth hanging open in awe. "It's so big!"

"Heads down!" Hagrid shouted just as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy which hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out on to rocks and pebbles. Hagrid suddenly looked at Neville. "Oy, you there! Is this your toad?"

"Trevor!" the boy blissfully cried, running forward and holding out his hands. "Thank you!"

Harriet looked around as they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid: they'd finally come out onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here?" Hagrid asked, looking around. "You there, still got yer toad?'

"We're finally here," Harriet whispered, clutching Hermione's hand with shaking fingers and watching with bated breath as Hagrid raised a gigantic fist. Her heart thumped wildly when the giant knocked three times on the castle door.

She had finally arrived at Hogwarts.


	9. Chapter 8: The Sorting Hat

**Chapter Eight: The Sorting Hat**

Harriet shivered when the door swung open: in the doorway stood a tall, red-haired witch in emerald-green robes.

She had a very stern face… and after only a glance, Harriet's first thought was it'd be better not to cross her.

"The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid exclaimed, grinning at the woman, "just like you asked."

"Thank you, Hagrid," the woman stiffly stated, pulling the door wider. "I will take them from here."

The Entrance Hall was so big that the Dursleys' whole house could have fit inside it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts: the ceiling was way too high to make out, and the magnificent marble staircase that was facing them led to the upper floors.

Harriet and the other students followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor.

The girl could hear the droning of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right—the rest of the school must already be here, she realized—but Professor McGonagall showed the first-years into a small empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony: while you are here, your house will be like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room."

"I'm so nervous!" Harriet fretfully whispered to Hermione. "I really hope we're in the same house!"

The brunette hesitantly nodded in agreement.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin," Professor McGonagall continued, primly folding her hands. "Each house has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor."

"I've read about that!" Hermione whispered, nudging Harriet with gleaming eyes. "It's legendary!"

"I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours," the redheaded witch sighed. "The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose before her eyes flicked to Harriet's hair; the girl blinked and nervously tried to smooth her close-cropped black locks. She then glanced to the side and saw her brother inconspicuously doing the same thing with his own hair.

_I really do look like a boy,_ Harriet silently whined, touching her tresses in dismay. _I'm never cutting my hair again!_

"I shall return when we are ready for you," Professor McGonagall finally stated. "Please wait quietly."

When she finally left the chamber, Harriet swallowed and smoothed her flowing black robes.

"Hermione?" Harriet timidly asked, finally letting go of the girl's hand. "How exactly do they sort us into houses?"

"Some sort of test, I think…" the brunette replied, frowning as she thought about it. "I didn't get far enough into the book that explains Hogwarts' traditions, but I was told it was easy when I went shopping for my schoolbooks. I really hope it's a spell-casting test! I've memorized so many that I should be all right!"

Harriet's heart gave a horrible jolt.

_ "_A test? In front of the whole school?" she fearfully asked, shivering violently. "B-but, I don't know any magic!"

"Don't worry," the brunette sighed, flapping a dismissive hand. "I'm certain it'll be fairly easy, if not elementary."

However, Harriet wasn't exactly comforted by that statement.

She anxiously looked around and was mildly relieved to see that everyone, aside from Hermione, looked as equally terrified as she felt. However, no one was talking much, and Harriet had never been more nervous in her life… not even when her brother, Harry, had been forced to take a school report to their Aunt and Uncle admitting that he'd somehow turned their teacher's wig blue.

The girl kept her large green eyes fixed on the door.

Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead them to their doom.

When the woman really came back in, though, Harriet closed her eyes with a wince.

"'Move along now," Professor McGonagall stated in a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start: all of you form a line… and follow me."

Feeling as though she were going to pass out from the anxiety, Harriet shakily got into line behind a girl with fine blonde hair; Hermione settled in directly behind her, and after that, they all walked out of the chamber. They slowly moved back across the hall through a pair of double doors, finally entering the Great Hall: several gasps immediately split the air, and mouths fell open everywhere, but Harriet was one of the few who actually had both forms of surprise happen to her.

She never could have imagined setting her eyes on such a strange and splendid place.

It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles, all of which were floating in the air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets, and at the top of the Hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first-years up there: they all came to a halt in a line facing the other students with the teachers behind them.

Hundreds of faces were soon staring at them: they looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight.

Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harriet hesitantly looked upwards and saw a velvety black ceiling that had been dotted with millions upon millions of flickering stars. She instantly twitched and stared in awe, green eyes sparkling.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Hermione whispered, leaning close to her ear. "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside! I read about it in _Hogwarts: A History_."

"It's hard to believe there's a ceiling there at all," Harriet whispered back, dreamily staring at the enchanted ceiling; she looked positively dazzled since she'd never seen so many stars in her life. "It's like looking through a window to the heavens…"

Both girls jumped and quickly looked down again when Professor McGonagall loudly placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years. On top of the stool, she gently set a pointed wizard's hat: Harriet leaned out to the side and peered at it, blinking like an owl when she noticed that it was patched, frayed, and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let something like that in the house, even if Dudley had brought it home.

_ Maybe we'll have to try and get a rabbit out of it or something,_ Harriet thought, shivering as she thought about the upcoming test; however, after glancing around and realizing that everyone in the Hall was now staring at the hat, she hesitantly stared at it too. _I wonder what's going to happen?_

For a few seconds, there was complete silence.

Then the hat twitched, and Harriet gasped since a rip near the brim opened up and moved like a mouth.

Without warning, the hat began to sing.

'_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!'_

The whole Hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song: it bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"We've only got to try on a hat?!" Hermione scoffed, shoulders slumping before she let out a long sigh. "Well, that's a relief."

"Yes… it sounds a lot easier than having to do a spell," Harriet agreed, giving her a weak smile. "Still, I wish we could try it on without everyone watching."

It was true: Harriet didn't feel brave, or quick-witted, or even clever at the moment. She was so nervous that she was honestly having a hard time keeping her legs from buckling. Her entire body was shaking… because soon, she would know who would be able to see her as well as those who wouldn't. Professor McGonagall finally stepped forward, holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," the woman loudly explained, voice seeming to echo throughout the hall; then she looked down and read aloud, "Hannah Abbot!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails shakily stumbled out of line and sat down on the stool, waiting for the woman to set the hat on her head.

It fell right down over her eyes, and there was silence echoing through the room.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted; yhe table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table.

"Susan Bones!" Professor McGonagall called; a beautiful girl with voluminously curly red hair slowly broke from the line and gracefully sat down on the stool, looking extremely nervous. The hat was soon placed on her head.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted again; Susan scuttled off and sat next to Hannah.

"Terry Boot!" the fiery-haired witch called, reading off another name; a lean boy with shaggy brown hair stood up and made his way up to the stool, waiting with closed eyes as the hat was placed on his head.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat bellowed.

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

And so it went: Mandy Brocklehurst went to Ravenclaw, too, but when Lavender Brown became the first new Gryffindor, the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harriet could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling. Millicent Bulstrode then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harriett's imagination… after all she'd heard about Slytherin through eavesdropping… but for some reason, she thought they looked like an unpleasant lot.

She was starting to feel definitely sick now.

She remembered when Harry had always been picked for teams during the sports lessons at their old school: her brother had always been the last to be chosen, not because he was no good, but because nobody wanted Dudley to think they liked him.

What if she ended up like that?

"Justin Finch-Fletchley!" Professor McGonagall called.

A scrawny brunette made his way forward and sat on the stool, where the hat was placed on his head.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted.

Harriet noticed that the hat sometimes called out the house at once… but other times, it took a little while to decide. Seamus Finnigan, the sandy-haired boy standing next to her brother, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

Then came the time where Hermione's name was called.

"Hermione Granger!" Professor McGonagall called; Harriet twisted a little and watched as Hermione flinched. She seemed extremely nervous, and she slowly took a breath before she headed over to the stool. After sitting down, she closed her eyes and hunched her shoulders as the hat was placed on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted, making Ron groan.

Harriet glanced at her brother with nervous green eyes, but after a moment she froze as a horrible thought struck her: what if she wasn't chosen at all? After all, if there were people who couldn't see her, what if the hat wouldn't be aware of her existence, either? What if she just sat there with the hat over her eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off her head and said there had obviously been a mistake and she'd better get back on the train?

She shuddered violently and covered her face with both hands, knees quailing violently: she felt like she was going to cry from the anxiety.

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called… he fell over on his way to the stool. Still, Harriet was rather surprised to see that the hat took a very long time deciding on Neville's house. When it finally shouted 'GRYFFINDOR', Neville ran off still wearing it. Harriet giggled when he jogged back amid gales of laughter to give the hat to the amused Professor McGonagall. Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, 'SLYTHERIN!' and Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking extremely pleased with himself.

Sadly, there weren't many people left now, and several names were being called: Moon, Nott, Parkinson, then a pair of twin girls, Patil and Patil, then there was Perks… and finally, at last...

"Harriet Potter!" Professor McGonagall called, green eyes sharpening in an instant; the black-haired girl's heart skipped a beat, and for a moment all she could do was stand there… but then, feeling as though she were going to be ill, the tiny girl slowly made her way out of the line and kept her eyes firmly squeezed shut. She didn't want to know who was seeing her… she didn't want to witness the oblivious expressions she knew would be all over the room.

However, when Harriet finally sat down on the stool with shaking shoulders, whispers suddenly broke out: hundreds of them… all like little hissing fires all over the hall. When Harriet slowly opened her eyes and stared through her glasses at the students, she felt her heart nearly stop: more than half of the students seemed to be completely oblivious of her existence… but the rest were all whispering amongst each other with large eyes.

"What did she say?" a boy whispered. "Did she just say _Harriet_ Potter?"

"So the Potter twins are really here?" a girl asked. "Wow... my Mum was right: Harry really does have a sister."

"Did she say Harriet?" another boy questioned. "Who's Harriet Potter?"

"Dunno," his friend muttered. "I only heard about _Harry_ Potter from my mum and dad."

"She's probably his cousin or something," a different girl explained, sounding amazed. "Still, I wonder why I've never heard of her?"

That was the last thing Harriet heard before the hat was dropped over her eyes: the cloth covered up the sight of the people who were craning their necks to get a good look at her. She shivered violently and shrank down into her school clothes with trembling lips and watering eyes that she quickly squeezed shut.

"Hmm," a small voice stated loudly in her ear, making her freeze. "Difficult… very difficult: you've a will of iron, I see, and a strong sense of adaptability in the face of difficult situations… there's raw talent inside you, and a fierce desire to be acknowledged… but where shall I put you?"

_Not Slytherin,_ Harriet silently whimpered, gripping the edges of the stool. _Please… not Slytherin! Not Slytherin! Anything but that! Anything but Slytherin! _

"Anything but Slytherin, eh?" the small voice asked, speaking in a seductive voice. "Are you sure? You could be a powerful witch, you know… it's all right here, in your head: Slytherin could help you on the way to greatness, I have no doubt about that. You would do well in Slytherin."

"Please," the girl whimpered aloud, slowly shaking her head. "No…"

"No?" the hat asked in a pondering tone. "Well, if you're sure, better be… GRYFFINDOR!"

Harriet heard the hat shout the last word to the whole Hall: she hardly noticed that she was getting the loudest cheer yet, despite the fact that only half her table was aware that she'd been sorted. Several of the people in the hall were already asking each other why nobody was doing anything, as though they were stuck in an alternate dimension. Harriet slowly took off the hat and shakily walked towards the Gryffindor table before plopping next to Hermione: she was so relieved to have been chosen and not put in Slytherin that she felt like crying. To her shock, though, Fred Weasley stood up and vigorously shook her hand; sadly, though… his twin brother, George, couldn't see her.

"Now I get it," the boy muttered, giving her a sneaky grin. "Mum was talking about you."

"Harry Potter," Professor McGonagall finally called, eliciting an uproarious amount of whispering.

Harriet watched with large eyes as her brother slowly broke away from the line and sat on the stool; then the hat was placed on his head, and his large eyes were hidden from sight. The black-haired girl crossed her fingers under the table.

"Another difficult choice, I see," the sorting hat stated in a thoughtful tone. "The second Potter… difficult, very difficult indeed: plenty of courage, I see, and not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh yes, and a shocking thirst to prove yourself... but where to put you?"

Her brother's mouth moved and she felt her scar sear without warning.

"Ow!" Harriet hissed, clapping a hand to her forehead; Hermione twitched and glanced at her in surprise.

_Not Slytherin,_ Harry's voice suddenly whispered, making her jump in alarm; the black-haired girl instantly looked around with a spooked expression_. Not Slytherin… not Slytherin…_

"Not Slytherin, eh?" the hat asked, voice reverberating through the hall. "Are you sure? You could be great, a fierce wizard in every form of the word."

_Not Slytherin, _Harry's voice whispered frantically, seeming to be coming from everywhere at once. _Not Slytherin…_

"I see that great minds _do_ think alike…" the sorting hat stated simply. "Better be… GRYFFINDOR!"

The entire table Harriet was sitting at erupted into cheers, and the girl shrieked in delight.

"We got Potter!" the Weasley twins simultaneously shouted, high-fiving each other. "We got Potter!"

Harriet twitched when Harry tried to sit down in the spot she was currently inhabiting… but thankfully, Hermione saw him coming and scooted down, making room for the girl so she wouldn't get knocked over. Harriet's eyes gleamed when her twin sat down beside her; then, smiling in relief, she slid her hand into his and gently set her head on his shoulder even though he didn't notice it.

"We're home, Harry," she murmured, closing her eyes in relief. "Together."

Hermione frowned and glanced at Harry when she realized that the boy didn't even seem to be aware of his sister's touch, and she soon scowled in irritation. After a moment, the green-eyed girl slowly lifted her head and looked up again: she could see the High Table properly now, and at the end nearest to her and Harry was Hagrid. The giant caught the girl's eye and gave her the thumbs-up, which both she _and_ Harry returned.

There, in the center of the High Table in a large gold chair, was Albus Dumbledore.

Harriet recognized him at once thanks to the card she'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog package on the train.

Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole Hall that shone brightly. Harriet spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron.: he was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban. Now there were only three people left to be sorted. Lisa Turpin soon became a Ravenclaw… but then it was Ron's turn: he was pale green when the hat was placed on his head.

"Another Weasley, eh?" the sorting hat asked. "I know just where to put you… GRYFFINDOR!"

The Potter twins clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed on the bench next to Harry.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," Percy Weasley pompously exclaimed. "Just like the rest of us, I see."

Last of all, Blaise Zabini was made a Slytherin: then Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Harriet glanced down at her empty gold plate, realizing in that moment just how hungry she was. The pumpkin pasties she'd shared with Hermione seemed ages ago. Around that moment, Albus Dumbledore gently rapped his glass and got to his feet, beaming at the students. He spread his arms open wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he said, speaking in a grandfatherly voice that soothed Harriet's heart. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words, and here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you… and let the feast… begin!"

When he sat back down, everybody clapped and cheered… but Harriet didn't know whether to laugh or not.

"Is he… a bit mad?' Harry asked Percy, looking a little uncertain; the girl didn't blame him.

"Mad?" Percy airily snorted. 'He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes… potatoes, Harry?"

Harriet's mouth fell open and she gasped in shock when the dishes in front of her were suddenly piled with food.

They had just appeared out of nowhere… like magic!

But what was more… the poor girl was overwhelmed, because she had never seen so many things she'd have liked to eat on one table: there was roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roasted potatoes, Fish chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup and, for some strange reason, mint humbugs. The Dursleys had never exactly starved Harry, but Harriet was another story since she'd been forced to pilfer from her brother: neither of them had ever gotten enough to eat since the girl had always taken half or less of everything he'd ever been given. On top of that, Dudley had always taken anything that her brother really wanted, even if it made him sick.

This had, in turn, caused Harriet to suffer as well: after all, they had similar, if not the same, tastes.

Harriet glanced at Harry and saw that he was piling his plate with a bit of everything except the humbugs; taking note of this, she hesitantly did the same and tentatively began to eat. The moment the girl popped a piece of food into her mouth, she nearly died from the explosion of flavor that assaulted her: closing her eyes and whimpering as she chewed, the girl fought not to burst into tears of delight.

It was so delicious she really could have cried.

However, Harriet twitched when a scream filled the air, and looked up to see ghosts flying through the walls.

The girl gasped and froze, eyes growing enormously wide when a ghost in a ruffled collar sat down opposite of her and Harry.

"Hello, Sir Nicholas," Percy greeted, smiling at the ghost in a friendly manner. "How have you been?"

"Just dreadful, I should say!" the ghost sourly, retorted. "My application for the headless hunt was denied again!"

"Sorry to hear that," Percy sighed, shaking his head. "Must be tough."

"Yes… still, that does look good," the ghost said sadly, moustache twitching as he watched Harry cut up his steak. "I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years. I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it… I don't think I've introduced myself, have I? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know you!" Ron suddenly exclaimed, eyes widening in recognition. "You're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"Sorry," the ghost stiffly retorted, "but I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas, thank you very much."

"Nearly Headless?" Hermione asked, giving him a suspicious expression. "How can you be nearly headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.

"Like this," he said irritably, seizing his left ear and pulling; Harriet choked on her food and let out a high-pitched shriek when his whole head swung off his neck and fell on to his shoulder, almost as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly; Ron let out a shout and jerked backwards, green eyes enormous; Hermione merely groaned and closed her eyes, obviously regretting her question.

Looking pleased by their individual reactions, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back on to his neck.

"So… new Gryffindors!" he cheerfully exclaimed, looking at all of them with bright eyes. "I hope you're going to help us win the House Championship this year? Gryffindor has never gone so long without winning. Slytherin has gotten the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable… he's the Slytherin ghost."

Harriet looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there: he had blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes that had been stained with silver blood. He was residing right next to Malfoy who, Harriet was pleased to see, didn't exactly look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

"How did he get covered in blood?" Seamus asked with great interest. "It looks rather frightful."

"I've never asked," Nearly Headless Nick delicately replied.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the puddings appeared, as well as blocks of ice-cream in every flavor Harriet could think of. There were apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, jelly, rice pudding... it was mesmerizing.

However, when Harriet helped herself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.

"I'm half and half," Seamus cheerfully explained. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mam didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" Ron asked, glancing at the innocent-looking, round-faced boy. "What's your family like?"

"Oh, um… well, my gran brought me up, and she's a witch," Neville hesitantly explained, blushing a little rosy from the attention, "but the family thought I was all Muggle for ages. My great-uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me – he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, and I nearly drowned… but nothing happened until I was eight."

"What was it?" Harriet asked, making the boy look up at her in surprise. "The thing that happened, I mean."

"Well, uh," the boy stammered, looking more than a bit embarrassed. "Great-uncle Algie came round for tea one day, and he was hanging me out of the upstairs window by my ankles when my great-auntie Enid offered him a meringue. He accidentally let go, but I bounced like a ball all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all pleased, and Gran was crying since she was happy. You should have seen their faces when I got in here: they all thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great-uncle Algie was so pleased that he bought me my toad."

"Wow," Harriet murmured, shivering a little. "That's… er... different?"

"I do hope they start straight away, there's so much to learn," Hermione gushed to Percy, catching the black-haired girl's attention. "I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, since turning something into something else is a fascinating concept! Of course, it's supposed to be very difficult… isn't it?"

"You'll be starting small," Percy chuckled, patting her shoulder. "Just matches into needles and that sort of thing."

"Even small, I still think it's amazing regardless," Harriet admitted to Hermione, catching the brunette's attention. "Until recently, I didn't even know magic existed… it's really quite odd to consider doing stuff like this, but at the same time, it's absolutely wonderful."

'Of course it is!" Hermione sniffed, giving her a firm look. "It's magic, after all!"

Harriet nodded, starting to feel warm and sleepy; then she looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet, Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore, and Professor Quirrell, still in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

And that's when it happened: when the hook-nosed teacher suddenly looked past Quirrell's turban and straight into Harriet's eyes… a sharp, hot pain seared across the scar on her forehead. Harriet twitched and clapped both hands to her forehead around the same moment that her brother let out a startled hiss of pain and did the same.

"Ouch!" Harry whispered, pressing a hand against his forehead with a wince. "What the heck?"

"What is it?" Hermione asked, looking at the twins with furrowed brows. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," Harriet murmured, rubbing her scar with stinging eyes. "I'm all right."

"It's nothing," Harry muttered at the same time; the pain had gone as quickly as it had come, but harder to shake off was the shared feeling that both twins had gotten from the teacher's look… a feeling that he didn't like either of them at all. "Say, Percy… who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?'

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you?" the redheaded prefect asked, glancing up at the teachers. "Well, it's no wonder he's looking so nervous: that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to… everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job since he knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts."

Harriet and her brother both watched Snape for a while but the man didn't look at either of them again.

At last, the puddings too disappeared and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again.

The Hall fell silent.

"Ahem… just a few more words now we are all fed and watered," he explained, looking at all of them with a smile. "I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First-years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

"I know who he's talking about," Ron muttered, sniggering when Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins. "My brothers are total troublemakers."

"I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors," Dumbledore continued, speaking in that soothing grandfatherly voice yet again. "Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. Finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harriet twitched when Harry laughed… but shockingly enough, he was one of the few who did.

"He's not serious, is he?" the tiny girl asked Hermione, who glanced at her. "The part about dying, I mean."

"He must be," the brunette replied, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd… I was told that he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere: after all, the forest's full of dangerous beasts. Everyone knows that, but I do think he might have told the Prefects, at least."

"And now," Dumbledore cried, "before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!"

Harriet noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, almost as if he was trying to get a fly off the end. However, a long silver ribbon made of some type of shimmery substance flew out of it: the ribbon slowly rose above the tables before twisting itself, almost snake-like, into words. Then it exploded and flashed down at every single one of the students, falling on them like silver rain: all of a sudden, Harriet had a litany of words inside her head.

"Wow!" Ron whispered, clutching his temples in shock. "This is weird, but so cool!"

"Everyone, pick their favorite tune," Dumbledore said, "and off we go!"

Harriet shivered when she recalled the tune from the train… and she used that, since she had nothing else.

_'Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot.'_

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand, and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

"First years, follow me... and be careful of the staircases," Percy called, gesturing for them to follow him. "They like to change."

The Gryffindor first-years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. Harriet's legs felt like lead again, but only because she was tired and full of food. She was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries.

They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet.

Harriet was just starting to wonder how much further they had to go when they came to a sudden halt. A bundle of walking sticks were floating in mid-air ahead of Them, and as Percy took a step towards them they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves: a poltergeist," Percy whispered to the first-years, then he raised his voic. "Peeves! Show yourself."

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?" Percy pointedly asked. "I will do it, you know."

There was a pop and a little man with wicked dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air.

He was clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said with an evil cackle. "Ickle firsties! What fun!"

When he suddenly swooped at them, they all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" Percy barked; Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed. "You want to watch out for Peeves: the Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, since he won't even listen to us Prefects. Anyway, here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she asked.

"Caput Draconis," Percy said; the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room. Harriet was rather happy to realize that it was a cozy, round-shaped room full of squashy armchairs and plush furniture. However, when Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory, she realized that she'd have to follow Hermione since he didn't seem to be aware of her existence. In fact, out of all the new first-year girls, only the brunette seemed to be able to see her. That meant she was pretty much alone, since out of the boys who went upstairs to their own dorm, only Fred and Neville had openly expressed their ability to see.

At the top of a spiral staircase – they were obviously in one of the towers – the girls found their beds at last.

Five four-posters hung with deep-red velvet curtains: their trunks had already been brought up.

Too tired to talk much, Harriet pulled on her pajamas and fell into bed, gently taking off her glasses and setting them on the side-table.

"Great food, wasn't it?" Hermione asked, peering at her through the hangings. "I do hope we get along this year."

"Me, too," Harriet murmured, speaking through closed eyes; the dark-haired girl was going to ask the brunette if she'd had any of the treacle tart, but she fell asleep before she could say anything. Hermione grinned and plopped down on her own bed, pulling the covers up to her chin.

Thus, the rest of the girls settled down for the night and they all fell asleep.


End file.
